Perfecting The Groundhogwarts Years
by Hippothestrowl
Summary: Greatly disappointed by the Battle of Hogwarts death toll, Magic itself compels Harry Potter to relive his school years over and over until he gets it right - PERFECTLY right! Parody. Humour. Friendship. Romance. Drama. Mystery. Tragedy. Fun!
1. The Second First Year

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**Perfecting The Groundhogwarts Years**

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**Chapter 1**

**The Second First Year**

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1998, After the Battle

The darkest of nights had been chosen to hide a foul deed, yet the cracked white slabs of Dumbledore's tomb stood out clearly, grimacing through the gloom like broken teeth. Harry Potter edged closer to the gaping maw created by Voldemort's incursion, and from his robe struggled against the Elder Wand's resistance, preparing to return it whence it came. But the call of its Magic was stronger now there were no distractions, and more compelling with his attention entirely focused.

"_So many dead..._" – whispers ... on the wind. And something creeping ... through the crushed grasses.

Harry raised the wand defensively, whirling about. "Who's there!"

It came back to its master then, the Resurrection Stone he'd dropped in the Forest, nudging against the side of his foot like a lost puppy. He took it up. Stared at its bland face. "Never again!" But when he threw it down, it remained in the air, rotating slowly, the sign of the Hallows caught repeatedly in the faint ambience from the sepulchre.

"_So many..._"

"Who are you?" gasped the young man. "_What_ are you?"

"_Magic had many voices, Harry – yet now so much depleted..._"

"I did what I could! I did my best! Why torment me further?"

"_Shall the Master of Death, empowered with limitless possibilities, willingly accept less than perfection?"_

"Any battle like this has casualties!"

"_Two or three perhaps, but there was unnecessary slaughter because of your failings..._"

Reckless anger conquered fear of the unknown. "Have it your way, then!" He gripped the wand with both hands, pointed it skyward. "If there be any way that Magic can bring them all back, then so be it! But I will not use the Resurrection St–"

–The grim clouds above flashed their outrage, and the earth pounded and shook underfoot, toppling the youth into utter black forgetfulness...

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Almost Eight Years Before

Bewildered, Harry shook his head to clear it, and wondered how to get onto platform nine and three-quarters. Why hadn't Hagrid told him about–

"–packed with Muggles, of course."

Harry swung round. The speaker was a plump woman who was talking to four boys, all with flaming red hair.

"Excuse me," Harry said to the–

"–packed with Muggles, of course."

Harry shook his head again. Hadn't she just said that? "Excuse me–"

"–packed with Muggles, of course."

The scrawny little boy gripped the sides of his head, staring in disbelief. What was going on? Hagrid had given no indication that magic behaved in this way. "Excuse me–"

"–packed with Muggles, of course."

Harry Potter staggered back in shock. His legs collided with a bench and he sat down heavily, staring at the family as, one by one, they walked through the wall between platforms nine and ten. He blinked, waiting to see if the scene would repeat again. It didn't. Perhaps his words had coincidentally been a spell name? Hagrid had mentioned something about accidental magic – no, his wand was still safely in his back pocket ... wasn't it?

He stood up and pulled it out, then gawped in amazement. Hard nodules had grown on the wand, like clusters of the berries Aunt Petunia used when making wine. They certainly helped his grip but it didn't even look like the wand he'd bought. Ollivander had said the wand had chosen him; he hadn't mentioned that the wand would swell and grow to fit his hand better. He wanted to give it a swish but after a glance around at the crowds, thought better of it. What words had he used that made that woman repeat?

Cautiously he held the wand low and gave it a tiny flick. "Excuse me," he hissed.

There was no change. Perhaps he'd mispronounced the incantation. "_Scoosee?"_ ... "_Skew me?"_ Nothing happened except an announcement squawked over a tannoy. He glanced at the station clock, gripped by a sudden realisation – he'd missed the trai–

"–packed with Muggles, of course."

So astonished was Harry to find himself standing again, that he lost hold of his wand and began scrabbling under the seat for it. It wasn't there. When he stood up, the red-haired family had all disappeared through the wall once more. Panicking, he patted himself down, hoping he'd returned the wand to–

–his back pocket! It was there all along! Yet he couldn't remember putting it away. And how was he to contact Hagrid to tell him he'd missed the train. Hadn't he? Harry scratched his head. The station clock now said it was only eight minutes to eleven. Should he follow the family through the wall? He grabbed his cart, steadied Hedwig's cage on top of it, and rushed unthinkingly at the solid bricks.

_KER-ASH!_

"Watch where you're going you lout! That's my cart you hit." It was a pale-faced boy, one that Harry had met at Madam Malkin's robe shop weeks before.

"Sorry."

"Pick my things up would you?"

A whistle sounded and the boy's head turned. "I say, wheel it over when you're done or I'll miss the train."

Harry gaped after the boy who was strolling leisurely away. Beyond him, a scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said Hogwarts Express, 11 o'clock. Clouds of white and black were panting out impatiently. Harry didn't wait, but rattled his cart quickly towards the train, abandoning the other boy's overturned trolley behind him.

The first carriages he passed were dominated by older students. He dismissed a few nearly full, and hurried by the one with the pale-faced boy. Rather than be left behind on the platform, he dragged his trunk onto the next carriage he reached and pulled it along the inner corridor, peering into each compartment. Most seats were taken. A round-faced boy wedged between two bigger boys was anxiously clutching a toad and trying to avoid the stares of all the kids opposite him. His trousers were wet as if he'd been carelessly dousing his pet earlier in preparation for the long journey.

The only empty compartment had 'Reserved' stickers on each seat. Another urgent whistle sounded, startling Harry. He rushed to the next cabin. It was empty except for a wild-haired girl frowning at a book in her lap. She looked up hopefully. A tentative smile revealed large teeth.

Harry didn't know how to talk to girls, so pushed ahead along the corridor. He felt awful immediately, but he couldn't go back. The train began to lurch into motion and he staggered. Two carriages further he caught sight of the youngest boy from the redheaded family turning into a compartment.

When he reached the doorway, he panted, "are th–these seats free?"

The boy opened his mouth to speak – but vanished. Harry then noticed the 'Reserved' stickers on every seat; had they been there before? Ought the boy not to have been there? He must have powerful magic to be able to– Another urgent whistle sounded, startling Harry. He rushed to the next compartment. It was almost empty except for... a twin of the bushy-haired girl. She looked up hopefully. A little smile uncovered prominent teeth. Harry gawped at her like a loony then hurried on, feeling even more guilty.

The train lurched and he staggered. Two carriages further he caught sight of what might be one of the brothers of the redheaded boy. He was sliding open the door of a compartment, and struggling to drag in his travel trunk.

"Hey, there!" called Harry.

When he reached him, he said, as if in equally-shared discovery, "Ah, this one looks free."

The tall boy nodded and hoisted up his trunk onto the rack. "Yeah, should be–"

–He was cut off by the shriek of another whistle. Harry heaved down on his own trunk to push it into the compartment. Abruptly, 'Reserved' stickers appeared on every seat. His eyes widened, and he asked, "Is that supposed to happen?" but when he looked up, the other boy was gone.

For a few moments, Harry had to sit down on his travel chest, blinking in amazement. The clatter of the train urged him back to his feet, and he trundled on to the next compartment. It was almost empty except for... yet another identical girl reading a book. She looked up hopefully. A little smile revealed protruding teeth. Harry, wide-eyed, shook his head at her like he was crazy. "Erm... are these all uuh... reserved?"

She rolled her eyes to the heavens. "Of course not. They'd put stickers on if they were, wouldn't they?"

"Uumm..." He hesitated, waiting to see if any labels would suddenly spring out from nowhere.

The train lurched into motion.

"Well?" she pouted. "Could you slide the door shut if you're not coming in – it'll get draughty now the train's moving." Her head slumped back down to entirely attend her book.

Harry bit his lip. The seats looked okay so far but... "Sorry, yes... I mean..." Softly he slid the door shut. She didn't look up, but through the glass he saw the line of her mouth set in disappointment.

He felt dreadful as he continued up the corridor. He stopped. Was that another of the red-haired boy's brothers up ahead? Was someone playing a prank? He worked his way more slowly forward, dreading what he might find.

Hesitating at the doorway, he peered round. There were definitely no 'Reserved' stickers. Yet from somewhere deep inside he sensed he had to get this right. "Erm...?"

"–packed with Muggles, of course."

Harry groaned as he watched the red-haired family disappear through the wall again. Would he _ever_ get to Hogwarts? He took a few steps forward, then paused. He took a step back. Nothing changed. So most things were safe to do, he thought to himself, but certain things...

To test a theory that was forming in his mind, he turned and strode off the platform, heading towards the station exit, when...

"–packed with Muggles, of course."

Harry screamed aloud with frustration. The family looked around. The plump woman smiled benignly and opened her mouth as if to ask him if–

"–packed with Muggles, of course."

Harry kept his mouth shut. Watched them go through the bricks. Followed them at a safe distance. Walked slowly. Avoided colliding with the haughty boy's trolley. Got on the train. Passed the toad boy's compartment. Shuddered by the 'Reserved' one. Hesitated before the wild-haired-book-girl came into view, then rushed past without looking in.

_Now what?_ he thought. When he'd made contact with the red-haired woman on the platform, everything started again. Harry also flipped back in time when he'd spoken to her son. Was he supposed to stand in the corridor all the way? Tooth-girl was a bit weird but had seemed safe enough. At least she hadn't vanished in a puff of nothing and changed into reserved stickers.

Cautiously he pulled his travel chest back and peered in. _Don't speak to her, whatever you do._ He crept in, quietly slid the door shut behind him, hoisted Hedwig's cage and his trunk up onto the rack, then sat down in a sort of neutral-not-affecting-anything kind of position in the middle of the opposite row, and nervously eyed the seats around him, hoping they wouldn't suddenly produce reserv–

"–Hello, I'm Hermione Granger. Who are you?"

"Uumm..."

Her eyes narrowed.

"Harry Potter!" he blurted out, terrified that he'd be back on the platform at King's Cross if he didn't answer.

"Are you really?" said Hermione. "I know all about you, of course – I got a few extra books for background reading. I knew nothing about any of this until I got my letter – My parents are non-magical, you see – your owl looks nice – I wish I could have– what are your favourite subjects? – Do you know what house you want to be in? I hope I'm in Gryffindor, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad – it's so exciting isn't it!" She said all this very fast as if keeping pace with the rattle of the train.

Harry noticed now she wasn't wearing the strange garb that most of the others on the train wore; her grey skirt and jacket reminded him of one of the more formal schools of south London. "Uuhh... you don't have any uumm... twin sisters do you?" asked Harry, cautiously eyeing the door. "Only–"

"–Twins? Goodness no!" She looked thoughtful for a moment, as if drawing on past regrets. "One brother and one sister would be nice though. Eleven to thirteen months apart would be ideal. Then we could learn from each other and share books and things." She spoke as if long expecting it might still happen.

Harry said, "I live with my cousin but there's not much sharing of–"

–The door slid open and the round-faced boy looked worriedly around floor, walls, and ceiling. "You've not seen a toad anywhere, have you?"

"Have you tried the toilets?" said Hermione. "Some idiot splashed water on the floor earlier and – or further along you could ask one of the pref– oh, I'll come with you!" she added quickly when she saw his apprehension.

The compartment felt very quiet after they'd left. Harry gazed out of the window at the passing scenery. The distant scene moved lazily along, while now and again a trackside signal post flashed speedily by. The rhythm of the rails lulled the boy's senses into tranquillity. He descended into a pleasurable dozy state of mind, and the strange start to the journey was forgotten. The world was full of promise again; even the fields and hills seemed magical to his comfortable attitude.

"They're saying Harry Potter's on the train. Is that you?"

Harry jerked back to wakefulness. It was the boy from Malkin's robe shop with two friends looking really mean and crowding over him. "Yes, look, I'm really sorry about leaving your luggage at the... uuh..."

"What?" scowled the boy. "Crabbe – run back and check my trunk."

He held out his hand and Harry took it, feeling he'd better make amends, but also wondering if the trolley crash had really taken place.

"My name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy," continued the boy. He gestured carelessly at his other friend who was now standing in the corridor look for the return of Crabbe. "That's Gregory Goyle." Goyle was fidgeting and dancing about as if anxious to go to the loo. Draco sniffed his disdain and continued as if he couldn't care less whether his companion heard him or not. "A passable lineage but some of us are better appointed. My family can help you along if you get into Slytherin."

Footsteps were heard pounding towards them. Goyle squirmed some more and grunted, "...Says your chest is fine."

Malfoy gave Harry a strange look. "Why'd you–?" He looked up at Harry's own travel trunk on the rack then across to the smart set of suitcases on the opposite side. "What are those poncy things? You've not got Muggle-filth in here, have you? You don't want to associate with people like that, Pott–"

"–Like what!" Harry was on his feet, closing in with bunched fists and glaring at Malfoy. Although scrawny, Harry was at least an inch taller than the other boy. But his arm was suddenly gripped, and he was pulled viciously aside. Crabbe and Goyle were significantly higher still, and much more heavily built.

"Mudbloods are completely the wrong sort, of course!" drawled Malfoy. "Teach him what's what, you two."

Crabbe seized Harry by the legs and he was hoisted upside down, with his head banging on the floor..

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks!" cried Harry, more bravely than he felt.

"Pee on him, Goyle, then hang him out to dry till he learns some manners," sniggered Draco.

Stinking, steaming hot wetness followed by a huge wall of cold air hit Harry. He tried to kick out with his other foot but that was grabbed too, and Goyle's grip was even tighter than Crabbe's. Everywhere was suddenly brighter as he was thrust through the outer doorway into a rush of wind that battered him about madly.

"Ready to show some respect yet, Potter?"

"You wish!" howled Harry, squirming to get a better view of his predicament – of a door handle – anything he might grab hold of to – but Crabbe and Goyle swung him by his ankles even further out so his hands were too distant from the hurtling Hogwarts Express to have any hope of–

–_THUD!_

"–packed with Muggles, of course."

Harry Potter staggered back in shock that his arms and shoulders and even his head were still attached, and there was no blood at all. His legs collided with a bench and he dropped down onto it hard, still feeling the heavy impact of the signal post and staring at the family of redheads as one by one they walked through the wall between platforms nine and ten.

He sat there for many minutes, lacking any further appetite for a train journey, or even to attend Hogwarts. _Magic out of control! ... Makes no sense!_ Events were repeating themselves again and again without reason. He sighed and rose to his feet. All he could do was to avoid the Weasleys and try not to get killed again. Toad-boy and Tooth-girl seemed safe so probably everyone else without red or blond hair was as well. Reluctantly, he walked back through the brickwork onto platform nine and three-quarters.

He found the girl's compartment, took a seat opposite, and stared at the floor, feeling Hermione's scorn burning into the top of his head. He heard her draw breath...

"I'm anxious too," she said with a touch of sympathy in her voice. "I knew nothing about magic until I got my letter – My parents are Muggles, you see – your owl looks nice – I wish I could have– what are your favourite subjects? – Do you know what house you want to be in? I hope I'm in Gryffindor, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad – oh, I'm a nervous wreck, but it's so exciting isn't it!"

"_Uh-huh,_" murmured Harry without looking up.

"I'm Hermione Granger by the way. Who are you?"

"Harry."

"Oh."

She fell silent after that and Harry felt dreadful for being so terse. He hated magic, and he hated Hogwarts, but most of all he hated himself. The emptiness dragged on forever. How many hours would it take to get to Scotland...?

"You've not seen a toad anywhere, have you?"

"Have you tried the toilets?" said Hermione. "There was water on the floor earlier and – or you could ask– oh, I'll come with you!" She sounded glad to get away from Harry.

He looked around at the empty compartment. Harry had forgotten about Hermione going to search for Neville's pet toad. Perhaps he could hide somewhere and not meet with Malfoy this time. But where? He thought and thought but couldn't think of a safe place except the toilet, and what if Hermione found him cowering there? _Oh, Neville, is that your butt-ugly toad whimpering on the floor? Or is it that pathetic boy who's not even learned to talk civilly yet?_ Perhaps he simply should not argue with Malfoy. He'd never stood up to his cousin Dudley, so what on earth had caused him to–

"They're saying Harry Potter's on the train. Is that you?"

Harry jerked to attention. "Mmm... yeah."

Draco held out his hand and Harry took it, feeling he'd better – or else.

"My name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy," continued the boy. He gestured carelessly at his other friends. "That's Crabbe and Goyle." Draco sniffed. "Some of us are better than others. I can help you there."

"Thanks."

Malfoy gave Harry a strange look, then up at Harry's travel trunk on the rack, and finally across to the suitcases on the opposite side. "What are those? You've not got a Mudblood in here, have you? You don't want to associate with people like that, Pott–"

"–Like what!" Harry was on his feet, glaring at Malfoy.

Malfoy stepped back in surprise. Harry gulped and sat down again. "Sorry."

"What's got into you? All I said was... oh, no, don't tell me he's your friend!"

Draco laughed and Harry could hear Goyle fumbling with the lock on one of Hermione's suitcases.

"Well, smash it open then," said Malfoy.

There was a metallic crunching sound. Harry looked up and his mouth fell open. Crabbe giggled loudly. He was rummaging through clothing and held up some underwear.

"A girl? She your girlfriend, Potter?" He held up a small brass telescope. "This how you spy on her?"

"No! She's not my–"

"–Your boyfriend then?" He draped the undies over Harry's head. "This what you're into is it?"

"Hoping, more like," sneered Goyle. "Here, get into this!" He flung a thin cotton camisole at Harry.

"Stop that!" Harry got up and began thrusting Hermione's clothing back into her suitcase. "You've no right to–"

–There was a cry from the doorway. "What are you–"

"–Potter wants to see your knickers, Mudblood – show him Goyle!" – Hermione shrieked and writhed as she was hoisted into the air – Harry's arm swished in a wide arc – Goyle convulsed in spinning pain – Crabbe smashed his head against a wall – Malfoy screamed once then scrunched up into a tight ball on the floor, face contorted in excruciating, silent agony, still clutching Hermione's little telescope. Harry lowered his smoking wand, staring in astonishment and wondering how it had all happened so quickly, and what spell he'd shouted, and why he wasn't instantly back on the platform at King's Cross – then wishing he was.

"Harry! How dare you go through my–!" Hermione's cheeks were tinged pink as she hesitated, then lowered her voice to murmur, "_Oh, you were stopping THEM, weren't you._"

"That's the most powerful..." Neville was clutching his toad so tightly, its eyes were bulging nearly as much as his own. "...ever seen."

"What was?" Hermione was staring around at the mess of casualties.

"That Stinging Jinx!" He nudged Goyle with his foot. The bully seemed to be in a dazed nightmare. "I should know. Uncle Algie used to–"

"–What happened here?"

Harry flinched. It was an older boy wearing a prefect badge. "I uuh... these three were stealing from Hermione's– they... they attacked her."

"–He jinxed them!" cried Neville. "It was amazing! He's Harry Potter!"

"You're Harry Potter?" said the older boy. "You did this?"

"I didn't know what else to do. I had to stop them... hurting her. Just reacted I suppose."

"_Finite Incantatem._" The boy pulled Draco to his feet. "You're Malfoy's son, aren't you? I shall be reporting all three of you to the Deputy Headmistress when we arrive. Until then, stay in your own compartment." He hustled them out, calling back over his shoulder, "No doubt Professor McGonagall will be calling on all of you as witnesses after the Sorting, so be prepared."

Harry puffed out air and sank down on his seat. "You saw them, didn't you, Neville? You'll tell–"

"–Yes, of course."

"And you too, Hermione? You'll back me up?"

But realisation of the enormity of what had occurred finally struck Hermione, and she burst into tears. "I'll b–be ... everyone w–will..." She buried her face in her hands.

Harry and Neville looked at each other, wondering what to do. Neither had ever received any significant comfort from anyone, and certainly had no idea how to give it – especially to a girl. Harry wished there was an older, more motherly person there who could–

"–Waaahh!" Hermione rushed out to escape their open-mouthed stares.

Harry cringed. "Neville, why didn't you–"

–Hermione was suddenly back in her place again, burying her face in her hands. "I'll b–be ... everyone w–will..."

Harry groaned. It was happening all over again. Neville was looking at him, wondering what to do.

"–Waaahh!" Hermione rushed out to escape them.

"Do something!" cried Harry.

"What can I–"

Hermione was in her place again, burying her face in her hands. "I'll b–be ... everyone w–will..."

Neville was looking at Harry, as if expecting him to take the initiative. Harry had to think of something fast or this would happen forever. But what?

"–Waaahh!" Hermione rushed out.

Harry braced to sprint after her, then pulled back, looking wildly about for inspiration. He was distracted by a noisy sequence of metal bridge rails fuh-whuffing rapidly past the window.–

"–"I'll b–be ... everyone w–will..." wailed Hermione.

Neville was looking at Harry, wondering what to do.

"–Waaahh!" Hermione rushed out yet again.

"–"I'll b–be ... everyone w–will..." wailed Hermione, back yet again in her seat–

"–Stop, stop!" cried Harry. "Uumm... er... Hermione we'll uuh... what can I... can I help you to... look, please, please don't cry. We can fix this." –though he had no idea how.

"B–but..."

Nervously, he sat down beside her, and tentatively took her hand–

"–Aaaaagh!" Hermione jerked her hand away and rushed out yet again.

Neville winced. "I don't think she liked being touched on bare skin by a boy she hardly knows, Harry."

"–"I'll b–be ... everyone w–will..." wailed Hermione, back in her place.

"Please don't cry, Hermione," said Harry, sitting down beside her once more. "We'll help you, won't we, Neville?" Timidly he patted her on the shoulder, hoping she wouldn't shriek; you never knew with girls.

"You w–will?"

"Of course. Whatever it takes. I promise."

"But you've not known me long enough to–"

"–Longer than you think," grinned Harry, rubbing her back and half-hugging–

"–Waaahh!" Hermione rushed out.

Neville cringed. "I don't think girls like being, ... well, _cuddled_, by strangers, Harry. Especially after she's just been–"

"–But you said bare skin, Neville. It wasn't bare skin this time!"

"What?" frowned Neville, trying to remember everything he'd said before.

Harry sighed and waited...

"–"I'll b–be ... everyone w–will..." wailed Hermione, back in her seat.

"Please don't cry, Hermione," said Harry, sitting down beside her yet again, determined to comfort the poor girl. "We'll help you, won't we, Neville?" Very, very cautiously, he patted her on the shoulder.

"You w–will?"

"Of course. Whatever it takes. I promise."

"But you've not known me long enough to–"

"But we'd like to know you."

"You would?" A weak smiled touched the corners of her mouth.

"Definitely. We're all going to Hogwarts together, right? We can be friends – look, what's done is done and nobody can change that but at least we–" The bridge railings were still hurtling by the window. Hang on, ... perhaps he _could_ prevent what had caused her such distress! Dare he...? Might he...?

"What are you doing?" cried Neville, as he and Hermione stared at Harry gingerly easing the outside door handle...

"Goodbye, Hermione. This one's for you. Back in a few minutes – I hope."

"_HARREEEE!"_ shrilled Hermione, as he threw himself from the trai–

"–packed with Muggles, of course."

Harry Potter staggered from the momentary pain, then steadied himself as his legs collided with a bench. He sat down quietly, staring at the family of redheads as one by one they walked through the wall between platforms nine and ten.

.

Try, Try Again

Determined not to make a single mistake this time, Harry mentally rolled up his sleeves, marched into Hermione's compartment once more, and sat down opposite her, thinking furiously. _Be nice to Hermione. Kill Draco. Be nice to Hermione. Kill Draco. Be–_

"–Hello, I'm Hermione Granger. Who are you?"

"Harry Potter," he said.

"Are you really?" said Hermione. "I know all about–"

–Harry tuned her out, nodding and smiling slightly at appropriate moments.

"You've not seen a toad anywhere, have you?"

Hermione offered to help and hurried off with Neville. Harry sighed and touched the side of his strange wand to reassure himself it was ready for action.

"They're saying Harry Potter's on the train. Is that you?" Draco had arrived on cue.

"Mmm... yeah," said Harry.

Draco held out his hand and Harry took it, feeling he'd better keep everything the same until–

"–My name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy," continued the boy. He gestured carelessly at his other friends. "That's Crabbe and that's Goyle." Draco sniffed. "Some of us are better than others. I can help you there."

"Thanks," said Harry – rather too stiffly.

Malfoy gave Harry a strange look, perused his cheap, secondhand garments, then up at the travel trunk on the rack above him, and finally across to the suitcases on the opposite side. "What are those? You've not got a Mudblood in here, have you? You don't want to associate with people like that, Pott–"

"–Like what!" Harry played his part, got to his feet, and glared at Malfoy.

Malfoy stepped back, startled by Harry's sudden fury.

"What's got into you? All I said was... oh, no, don't tell me he's your friend!"

Draco laughed and Harry could hear Goyle fumbling with the lock on one of Hermione's suitcases.

"Well, smash it open then," said Malfoy.

There was a crunch. Crabbe giggled loudly. He was rummaging through underwear and held up something flimsy.

"A girl? She your girlfriend, Potter?"

"No, I..."

"Your boyfriend then?" He draped the undies over Harry's head. "This what you're into is it?"

"Hoping, more like," sneered Goyle, who was wearing a pewter cauldron as a helmet. "Here, get into this!" He flung a silky little camisole.

Harry could hear approaching footsteps out in the corridor, so quickly stuffed the underwear out of sight before taking his seat and shouting loudly enough for Neville and Hermione to hear him outside, "Stop that! You've no right to STEAL those–"

–There was a cry from the doorway. "What are you–"

"–They're robbing you, Hermione! – "Upend her, Goyle!" cried Malfoy – Harry's arm swished in a wide arc – Goyle convulsed in spinning pain – Crabbe smashed his head against a wall – Malfoy screamed once then scrunched up into a ball on the floor, face contorted in excruciating, silent agony, still clutching the telescope. Harry lowered his smouldering wand. "I tried to stop them, but they wouldn't listen!"

She was in shock that they'd broken open her suitcase and been going through her things, but Harry comforted her with such thoughtfulness that she soon put her anxieties aside and accepted his offer of friendship with only a little hesitation.

.

Expulsion

"Fifty points to Gryffindor!" said Professor McGonagall. "Well done, Mr Potter for defending this young lady from a serious assault and robbery. We do not normally approve using magic outside of classes but in the circumstances, and since it was only a Stinging Jinx, I–"

"–Some sting!" cried Neville.

"Mmm... yes, no doubt," said McGonagall. "Miss Granger, you will be relieved to hear the bullies have been expelled and may face criminal charges."

"Thank you," said Hermione. "I can't imagine what it would have been like to have those three at Hogwarts for seven whole years!"

"Well, I for one," smiled Neville as they walked back to finish the feast that awaited them, "think it will be perfect."

.

True Gryffindors All

It was certainly easier to listen to Hermione's chatter while Neville was there to absorb most of her breathless excitement. Nothing had repeated for ages except for a double helping of treacle tart, and, as they followed the others up to Gryffindor Tower, Harry had, for once in his life, a full, contented stomach. When they reached their dorm, three other boys had already taken the first beds nearest the door and were busy sorting out their wardrobes. Harry and Neville went to the far corner which at least was snug, and had its own window with the best view over the lake.

They both began sorting out the possessions in their travel trunks, transferring clothing into cupboards and arranging schoolbooks on shelves. Harry found a curious stone at the bottom of his chest that he couldn't remember packing. On its surface was etched a strange triangular symbol that–

"–Are you really Harry Potter?" one of the boys blurted out.

Harry saw then that it was one of the redheads – the one who'd been Sorted. What was his name? And why hadn't things repeated? He nodded. "Mmm... yeah, er..."

"Ron, Ron Weasley." The boy was staring at Harry's forehead.

"I'm Dean and this is Seamus," said one of the other boys.

"Right," said Harry, "this is Neville."

"And is it true what they're saying," continued Ron, as if he hadn't been interrupted, "that you duelled three boys on the train at once, and won?"

"Uuh... not really a duel, more of a–"

"–Absolutely!" cried Neville. "Floored them with one Stinging Jinx! You should have–"

"–Way to go, Harry!" cried Dean.

"Just luck, honestly. I didn't even really know the spell but, well, lashed out. I mean, they were robbing someone's baggage! Hagrid said things like that are accidental magic."

"You're definitely a Gryffindor," said Seamus. "I reckon I'm only here because I wouldn't fit anywhere else."

Neville mumbled something about expecting to be in Hufflepuff. Ron said only his family name got him in.

Dean said, "Way I heard it, the Sorting Hat is NEVER wrong. We must all be true Gryffindors."

Ron and Neville perked up a bit at that. They all grinned at one another, and, as they prepared for bed, each one was looking forward to the next day.

"Night, Neville."

"Night, Harry."

.

Self Defence

Seamus, Dean, and Ron formed a loose triad of friendship over the next few days. Harry, Neville, and Hermione had been thrown together as well. A seemingly random sequence of events on the train, and chance bed positions seemed to have determined these two groupings. Harry could not help wondering what might have happened if he'd managed to speak to Ron on the train.

But his reliving parts of that first day over and over were soon forgotten – until, that is, their first Defence Against the Dark Arts class. This was being taught by Professor Quirrell who Harry had met with Hagrid in the Leaky Cauldron – except now he was wearing a peculiar purple turban, and smelt oddly of garlic.

After much preamble and theorising, Quirrell finally suggested they practise some real magic.

"The f–first b–basic spell to c–consider," stammered the man, "sh–sh–shoots green sparks from your w–wand to signal your wh–wh–wh–"

"–whereabouts?" Hermione's hand was in the air.

"Th–thank you M–Miss Granger, yes to signal your wh–wh–_position_, and th–that you are s–safe. P–Point your w–wand upwards and use the incantation: _V–V–Verdimillious!_ – Ow!" Quirrell rubbed his nose irritably.

"Shouldn't we hold the wand further away from our faces, Professor?" Hermione said doubtfully.

"Quite right, M–Miss Granger, th–thank you."

Harry managed the charm after three or four attempts. During the next twenty minutes, most of the students had also mastered the spell. Ron was deliberately saying "V–V–V–V–V–V–Ver–Ver–Ver–" repeatedly laughing with Seamus and waving his arm about madly. Dean had a Muggle newspaper folded on his knees out of sight and was filling in a crossword puzzle. Seamus began yawning. A girl called Parvati had her wand upside down and couldn't understand why her shoelaces were smouldering greenly.

This is boring, thought Harry, who had been hoping for something more exciting. With Hermione's help, Neville finally got the spell right and his face lit up with delight. Dean was muttering, "_...predetermine events... one two, three... seven letters..._ Harry wished the class could be over so he could–

"–That's all f–for t–today, ch–ch–children. Next lesson we'll b–be learning how to cast _red_ sparks"

"Oh, wow!" murmured Harry. "Can't wait for that one."

They were just walking out of the classroom – Ron was muttering something about what a load of old tosh – when Harry found himself walking back in again. He stopped in the doorway. Neville bumped into him from behind.

Hermione said, "What is it, Harry?"

"Erm... Why are we going back in?" He looked around. "Why is _everyone_ going back in?"

"This is our next class, Harry, remember?" said Neville, holding up his schedule. He dropped his arm when he saw Harry's puzzled expression. "And I thought _my_ memory was bad!"

"Out of the way, Potter." Kids were trying to push past them so Harry had little option but to go with the flow.

Harry sat down in a daze as Quirrell waffled on and on in the same way he had previously, before finally declaring they would be practising a spell to cast green sparks. Harry performed it first time. Hermione frowned but quickly followed him with her own success. Dean was still doing his crossword and Parvati was singeing her socks.

"–That's all f–for t–today, ch–ch–children. Next lesson we'll b–be learning how to cast–"

"–_red_ sparks," murmured Harry. "Can't wait."

The third time Harry found himself re-entering Quirrell's green sparks class he put his foot down very firmly, "No," and turned away aiming to get some fresh air outside.

"Harry?" said Neville, glancing at Hermione,"where are you going? It's our first Defence class!"

"For you, maybe, but I've had enough sparks for one day."

Neville bumped into him from behind.

Hermione said, "What is it, Harry?"

"Erm..." He looked around. "We're going back in, aren't we?"

He resigned himself to being pushed inside again, and took his usual seat. What was he going to do? Was he trapped forever in this one class? Why couldn't it have been while eating a nice meal or... for some reason an image of him rubbing Hermione's back came into his head. That had been... interesting. When events had repeated on the train he'd found a way because he was part of the action; here, he was a passive observer who was not causing the repeat. Perhaps he should try some things. But what...?

"The f–first b–basic spell to c–consider," stammered Professor Quirrell, "sh–sh–shoots green sparks from your w–wand to signal your wh–"

"your position," said Harry, not bothering to raise his hand, " to signal where you are."

"Correct, Mr Potter."

But soon, Seamus was yawning again, Dean was doing his crossword and Parvati–"

"–This way up," said Harry, helping Parvati. "Your wand has no taper, so it's hard to tell top from bottom. That notch there is at the bottom, I think."

"Oo–thank you, Harry," cried Parvati, as she cast a shower of sparks up towards the ceiling.

"_Power or agency believed to predetermine events... one two, three... seven letters..._" muttered Dean.

"_Miracle,_" growled Harry. "It'd be a miracle if–"

"–No, it ends in 'Y'."

"_Sorcery_ then. It can only be magic that forces me to–"

"–It's _Destiny_," said Hermione.

"What?" said Harry.

"–That's all f–for t–today, ch–ch–children. Next lesson we'll b–be learning how to cast–"

"–RED sparks!" shouted Harry.

Everyone froze. The clatter stopped.

"That's r–right, Mr P–Potter, _red_ sparks."

Harry groaned. The noise of the exodus resumed.

Neville looked back. "Aren't you coming, Harry?"

"What's the point? I'm doomed to– Hermione!" he jumped up and ran after the girl who was ahead of Neville through the doorway. "Hermione! Quickly! tell me what you meant about–"

–Neville bumped into him from behind.

Hermione said, "What is it, Harry?"

"What did you mean about destiny?"

"Pardon? What about it?"

"You said it's destiny."

"When?"

"Erm..." He didn't need to look about. "We're going back in, aren't we?"

Hermione frowned at him. "Are you sure you're alright, Harry?"

"Fine. Talk later."

Harry had to wait until Hermione had finished helping Neville with his sparks and everyone else was preoccupied before he could whisper to her, "Hermione, do you think there's such a thing as destiny?"

"Well... if you had asked me a year ago I'd have said no, but now I know that magic is real, then perhaps there is. I mean, it would be silly to assume–"

"–And how would it work?"

He glanced sideways, Parvati had her wand upside down again; Dean was muttering under his breath, "_...agency believed to... seven letters..._" and Ron was still flailing wildly with his fake stammered incantation.

Hermione pouted thoughtfully. "How would it work? Well, I suppose it's that whatever you do, things would work out a certain way. I'll check the library this evening to see if I can–"

"–You won't be able to, Hermione. Not while–"

"–What do you mean! Surely the library can't be closed!" Her eyes bulged as if someone had said the oxygen supply was about to be cut off. "I have my homework to research!"

"No, nothing like that but... so, anyway, what if one didn't know how things should work out?"

"It wouldn't matter, one's destiny would unfold correctly anyway."

"But what if it didn't? Suppose you kind of, failed to get it exactly right, would you be erm... reborn or something to uuh... get it absolutely perfect the second time round?"

"If destiny is real, then by definition, it can't fail, Harry."

"Why not?"

"_Because otherwise it wouldn't be..._" hissed Hermione, rolling her eyes up to the green sparks flying around the ceiling, "_DESTINY, would it?"_

"Ah yes, of course," said Dean, "thanks."

Harry sighed. Yes, there was something inevitable about all of this. But why couldn't destiny get it right in the first place? Why did it have to try over and over?

_V–V–VER–VER–VERDIMILLIOUS!_ bellowed Ron, and a gout of green sparks swept wildly towards Harry's face – he pulled back his head – Hermione shrieked – Harry thrust up his wand to block the spell from hitting her – there was sharp pain as the sparks hit his wrist – the wand almost fell, but strangely clung to his palm. "OW!"

"Mercif–ful Merlin, Mr P–Potter!" said Quirrell, walking tentatively towards him. "Are you b–badly–" Without warning, he seized Harry by the arm, but it was not Harry's injury that he was examining. "This wand, boy! Where did you get it! Speak up!"

The classroom fell silent at the complete lapse of their teacher's nervous stutter.

Quirrell reached for the wand with his other hand, never releasing his vicious grip on Harry's wand arm – Harry tilted the wand away – Quirrell snatched at Harry's hand to shake it free – a needle-sharp pain seared across Harry"s scar as if his head was about to split in two – TWO screams rang out!

Quirrell had staggered away, clutching at his own fingers which were blistering as if by invisible fire. "What is this!"

And then another voice, a high thin utterance, was heard, freezing the veins of everyone present: "_SEIZE HIM! TAKE HIM! WE MUST LEAVE!"_

Several girls screamed in terror. Most of the students were on their feet, backing away from the frightening attack. Harry was too numb with fear to avoid it. Both arms were seized this time. Quirrell's expression was manic. Harry's forehead butted into his chin. The man screamed again but held on, despite his jaw looking raw, red, and shiny, as though the skin was ripped away. Harry still had his wand but could not bring it to bear except–

There was a cold, _purple_ explosion of sparks between Harry and his assailant, blasting them apart. As he fell, the boy thought he saw the Headmaster in the doorway, a terrible fury on his face. It was a struggle to remain conscious, but Harry dazedly slipped his wand back under his robes as a dark shadow seemed to pass from Quirrell – then he knew no more.

.

Wandless

Harry became conscious of light on his closed eyelids but he was much too comfortable to consider what it might mean.

"Good morning, Harry."

"Headmaster!" Harry's eyes blinked open, and he realised he must be in a hospital or perhaps a first aid section within Hogwarts.

"This is the hospital wing, Harry; you're perfectly safe now."

Harry groped for his spectacles glinting on the bedside table, then everything swam into focus. "Thank you for saving me, Headmaster."

Dumbledore's eyebrows raised. "Alas, I am without a wand this week, Harry. No, it was not I that saved you, but your own magic. That was quite a Revulsion Jinx you performed."

"A what? Me? I tried to... I think it was gut reaction, sir – accidental magic like on the train."

"I see. Well, perhaps you would be wise to keep that to yourself, Harry." Dumbledore winked. "You're quite the hero now." He gestured to another, larger table, which was filled with get-well cards and gift-wrapped packages. "The invocation is _Relashio_ should you wish to erm... refresh your memory in the school library." Dumbledore's eyes flicked in the direction of the bedside table.

"Thank you, sir."

"Harry, might I examine your wand?"

Harry's attempt to suppress panic was not lost on Dumbledore. "Relax, dear boy, it's normal for wizards to be concerned when separated from their wands – yours is right here." He picked it up. "Interesting ... holly is it not?"

"Uumm..." Harry stared at the wand held lightly in Dumbledore's hands. "Sometimes I think it changes a little."

"Really? Most intriguing. Well, as you probably know, the wand chooses the wizard, Harry." He gave it a light swish. "Yours does nothing for me. Alas, I shall have to visit Ollivander's during the next few days to purchase a new one. Must have misplaced mine at the start of term – elevated anticipation does that to an old man, you know, though I never dreamt there was to be quite so much excitement so soon after your arrival, what with the incident on the train and–"

–Harry's response was an apologetic smile. "And Professor Quirrell? What was that...?"

"Alas, your Defence teacher allowed himself to become possessed by Voldemort. That dark wizard has fled from you once more, Harry, and Professor Quirrell is currently in St Mungo's Hospital being treated for strange burns – your doing, I believe?"

"I didn't mean to, sir. I–"

"–That's quite alright. Not your fault at all. Professor Quirrell will be put on trial and I, no doubt, must seek a new Defence teacher as well as a new wand." Dumbledore turned to leave.

"Sir, one last thing... do you believe in ... Destiny?"

The Headmaster spun abruptly around to face Harry once more, and his blue eyes were twinkling with astonished delight. "Most definitely, Harry, most definitely."

.

Rocket Man

Everyone was looking forward to their first flying lesson which started smoothly enough. Harry couldn't wait to get in the air for the first time.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch.

He braced himself to push off. The instructor prepared to blow her whistle, but Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before it had even touched her lips.

"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle – twelve feet – twenty feet. Harry saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and–

"–Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch.

Harry watched in astonishment as Neville shot up like a rocket for a second time – then a third and fourth. Never did he quite splat into the ground before Hooch was repeating her preparatory speech. The fifth time, Harry pushed up into the air after Neville, but in vain. There was no way he could hold the slightly chubby Neville as he slid off once more.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch, yet again.

"Neville!" hissed Harry out of the side of his mouth, "not too hard! Push gently forward then pull it up to stop. I'm sure it's important to practise braking before we go higher."

Neville gritted his teeth so hard, Harry felt sure he heard them grating. The whistle blew. Together they drifted slowly forward then came to a jerky stop. Neville stumbled slightly, but held on.

"I did it!" he cried.

"Well done, Longbottom," cried Hooch, "now try circling around a few times. Practice makes perfect."

"This yours, Neville?" said Harry, picking something up from the grass. "It fell out of your pocket, I think."

"Oh, yes, that's my Remembrall. Helps me remember to erm..."

.

Research

Potions lessons took place down in one of the creepy dungeons. Snape started the class by taking the register; he paused at Harry's name.

"Ah, yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new ... celebrity."

Some of the Slytherins sniggered behind their hands. Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class with black, empty eyes. His introductory speech was hypnotic, transfixing the class into silence without effort.

Without warning, he suddenly snapped, "Potter, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry glanced at Hermione, whose hand had shot into the air.

"I don't know, sir."

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Harry shook his head.

"What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Harry mumbled, "I don't–"

"–Potter!" repeated Snape. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

"Erm... didn't you already ask that one?"

"Potter, what would I get if..."

And on and on they repeated this cycle.

"Hermione?" he pleaded.

"You will not cheat, Potter! Clearly–"

"–Wait! Yes, perhaps I can!" Harry flipped through his copy of _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_, scouring it for the answers.

Snape's lips curled into a sneer. "Ten points from Gryffindor. You should have researched this–"

"–Research, yes!" Harry jumped up and ran to the door.

Snape, and everyone else, stared after him. "Potter! Detention! This evening after–"

–but the rest of what the teacher was saying was lost as Harry raced through the stone corridors towards the library. Hurriedly, he scanned the shelves, pulled out a huge tome grandly titled: _Everything You Could Possibly Wish To Know About Potion Ingredients_ and began to hasten through its pages.

Then he stopped. ... Why rush? If Destiny or Magic wanted him to give the right answers then who was he to fight it?

An hour or two passed while Harry made notes, read them and re-read them, committing to memory every word. Finally he went over it all in his mind until he was confident he could not forget. He closed the huge book with a resounding–

"–Potter, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry leaned back, trying to look thoughtful, then nodded to himself. "That would be Living Death, wouldn't it, sir?"

Snape frowned.

"And where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

"Aah... let's see now..." grinned Harry, as if he were enjoying the questions, "a goat's stomach is the best place but they can also be found in–"

"–What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?" spat Snape.

Harry frowned with feigned puzzlement, delaying as long as possible. Snape sneered. Harry blinked confusedly. "Surely they're the same thing, aren't they, sir?"

Harry's face brightened triumphantly at Snape's bitter expression.

For the practical brewing part of the lesson, he paired with Hermione, so he couldn't go far wrong. Dean and Ron, meanwhile, were struggling with their snake fangs.

Harry sprinkled on the final few porcupine quills then Hermione moved the cauldron away from their fire.

"–That's perfect, Harry," smiled Hermione, squeezing his arm. "The colour is just right and–"

"–AAAAARRRGH!"

Harry looked round. Children were climbing onto their stools but he couldn't see–

Harry was suddenly sprinkling in porcupine quills again. In a daze, he watched Hermione move their cauldron away from their fire.

"–That's perfect, Harry," smiled Hermione, squeezing his arm. "The colour is just right and–"

"–AAAAARRRGH!"

Quickly, Harry looked round. Potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes but–

Before he could detect the cause, Harry was again sprinkling in the final few porcupine quills and Hermione was moving the cauldron away from their fire.

"–That's perfect, Harry," smiled Hermione, squeezing his arm. "The colour is just right and–"

"–AAAAARRRGH!"

Harry whirled about so quickly this time that Hermione, still gripping his arm, almost toppled over. He had just spotted that Neville and Seamus's cauldron had melted into a twisted blob when once again, he found himself grasping a handful of porcupine quills.

"–That's perfect, Harry," smiled Hermione, squeezing his arm. "The colour is just right and–"

"–AAAAARRRGH!"

"–That's perfect, Harry," smiled Hermione, squeezing his arm. "The–"

"–What if we hadn't added the quills? Quickly, Hermione!"

"Well, the–

"–AAAAARRRGH!"

"–That's perf–"

"–Why the quills, Hermione!"

"Well the heat would continue to increase and probably melt the–"

"–AAAAARRRGH!"

"–That's perfect, Harry," smiled Hermione – but she never got to squeeze his arm. In three strides, Harry had reached Neville and sprinkled in the remainder of his porcupine quills. Just in time, for Seamus was in the act of moving the cauldron away.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor for cheating!" snarled Snape.

.

Tart Heaven

"Thanks again, Harry," said Neville, at dinner that evening.

"Well, I couldn't stand by and do nothing."

"You're too modest, Harry. I think you were brilliant," said Hermione. "Neville could have been badly injured if not for your swift action. How did you know he'd forgotten to add his porcupine quills?"

"Just happened to glance that way, I guess."

Neville pushed away his empty plate, reached for a dish of lemon meringue, and sighed. "It's been a perfect first week at Hogwarts. "I've turned a match into a needle, learned to fly a broomstick, and brewed perfect boil-cure potion. What about you, Hermione?"

"Friends. I've made two good friends right away," she said happily. "And you, Harry? What's your idea of heaven?"

"Well," he said, reaching for dessert, "suppose it was your destiny to eat a custard pie, then probably you could, instead, eat treacle tart forever without getting full."

Hermione's expression was a treat to behold. "That makes no sense whatsoever."

"You're absolutely right, Hermione," said Harry, as he bit into his favourite pudding, "none whatsoever."

"Harry, I've been wondering, said Neville, "uumm... what's that sticking out of your pocket?"

The Boy of Destiny looked down and frowned. It wasn't a handkerchief. Tentatively, he pulled it out and held it up. It was Hermione's knickers he'd stuffed away on the train. She squealed so loudly a nearby candle flickered out. Total silence had fallen over the Great Hall. Many were on their feet, staring in disgust at Harry and the underwear he was rapidly trying to conceal. Dumbledore rose up in astonishment, an awful disappointment on his face. Harry opened his mouth to explain–

"–And you, Harry?" Hermione was saying, "What's your idea of heaven?"

"Well," he said, trying to compose himself as he reached for dessert, "suppose it was your destiny to eat a custard pie, then probably you could instead eat treacle tart forever without getting full."

Hermione's expression was a treat to behold. "That makes no sense whatsoever."

"You're absolutely right, Hermione," smiled Harry, as he bit into his favourite pudding yet again, "none whatsoever."

.

The Good Life

The rest of the term passed by as perfectly as the first week. The three learned to hover feathers. Quirrell was sent to Azkaban, and the Ministry assigned an Auror to replace him at Hogwarts. There was a story going around that a young dragon had been seen near Hagrid's hut, flying away in the direction of Romania, but nobody believed that nonsense. Neville invited Harry to his home for Christmas, and Hermione joined them after first spending time with her own family. They exchanged gifts and had a wonderful time of it, except for one temporary episode...

Harry spent an entire day of repeated minutes trying to stop Neville's gran from sitting on Neville's wand but without success. No matter how often he warned her, or snatched the wand in the nick of time, the minutes kept repeating. Only when he was so mentally exhausted that he couldn't shout, and the wand was inevitably sat on and broken, did the day continue normally. She chastised her grandson for carelessly leaving his wand on her favourite chair after impressing her with his range of coloured sparks, but eventually promised to take him to buy a new one before the holidays were over.

Hermione scowled at Harry. "You were nearest. Why didn't you say something? You must have seen it!"

"Sorry, Hermione. Sorry, Neville."

She sighed. "I can't stay mad at you for long, I suppose. And perhaps Neville's new wand will serve him better."

Hermione was right. Neville's sparks were even brighter and more colourful after that, and his feathers flew higher.

An additional present awaited Harry on his return to Hogwarts: an invisibility cloak that had belonged to his father. He placed it with the curious stone he'd found at the bottom of his travel chest. The garment also helped conceal Hermione's knickers. What was he do with them? He couldn't exactly hand them back, could he. If he tried to burn them on the common room fire he might be seen. Bury them in the Forest? – it was forbidden, and anyway, suppose Hagrid's dog Fang dug them up? Harry cringed at the thought of the wolfhound walking into the Great Hall during dinner and dropping them at his feet...

The months flew by. The weather grew warmer. At the end of a perfect year, the three agreed to spend as much time as they could with each other over the summer holidays.

Life was good.

.

—oOo—

.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

_This story is a 30,000-word novella of five chapters already written and proof-read several times and each chapter to be checked and polished one last time then posted every 7 to 10 days. There's one short chapter of just under 4K as I recall. Don't take the story too seriously, but enjoy! Meanwhile I am working hard on the next chapter of Chance of a Lifetime!_

_Ollivander said 'The wand chooses the wizard' so it seems plausible that one as powerful as the elder wand would not give up its choice without a fight. Did it transfigure Harry's original wand into itself? Or somehow take its place? I prefer that they merged somehow and can display itself as it wishes._

_You might have been puzzled about Quirrell recognising the Elder Wand, but, although Voldemort perhaps didn't know of it at that time, Quirrell may well have researched it in his efforts to improve himself and be recognised. Even if the form of the wand was not known, he could have recognised the type of wood as elder. And, incidentally, Petunia liked to make elderberry wine which is what Harry remembered even though he didn't know exactly what it was. _

_Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging. Let me know of any weaknesses or faults — I'm always trying to improve my writing so feedback is really useful._ :)

**\- Hippothestrowl**

.


	2. The Second Second Year

.

_So far... Harry has to relive his time at Hogwarts over and over until he fulfils his destiny. On the Hogwarts Express he befriends only Hermione and Neville, but also causes Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle to be expelled. In his first week he exposes Professor Quirrell, banishes Voldemort, and humiliates Snape. The rest of the year is then perfect. Now read on... _

.

**Chapter 2**

**The Second Second Year**

* * *

.

Leaving No Trace

The doorbell rang at number four, Privet Drive, and Harry was first to respond. "Neville! Hermione! Hang on, I'm almost ready!"

"Can we come in for a few minutes?" Hermione called tentatively to his departing figure. "We've–"

"–Erm... best not," she heard Harry faintly reply. There was an exchange of glances between herself and Neville.

Neville whispered, "Harry told me his aunt and uncle, are not uumm... fond of–"

"–OFF MY FRONT STEP, YOU FREAKS!" bellowed Vernon Dursley, who had just walked round from the side of the house where he'd been inspecting the lawn.

After they'd leapt and stumbled back in shock, the man examined the threshold as if worried it might somehow be contaminated. "KEEP AWAY! YOU HEAR?" He stormed inside, slamming the door behind him.

"How impolite!" said Hermione.

"Let's wait at the gate," Neville said rather nervously.

Almost before they reached it, Harry burst out of the house and chased after them. He looked rather annoyed. "Sorry about that, but–"

"–Harry, you have grass cuttings in your hair."

"Ah, drat!" He brushed at his head vigorously with his sleeve. "Had to do double chores else they wouldn't let me go with you." He blew air down his nose to indicate his irritation.

"Here, let me," said Hermione, producing a comb from her bag. As she cradled his cheek in one hand and gently stroked through his tangled mop of hair, a strange idea formed in Harry's mind. Emboldened by his 'Destiny' experiences, he decided to try something – after all, the worst that could happen would be to do it again...

"Uuh... sorry, can you hang on a minute?" He drew out his wand which he'd not used since leaving Hogwarts, and examined it closely. The strange rod had resumed its knobbly structure. His face lit up with malice.

Eyes blazing, the boy darted back towards the house.

"Harry, no!" cried Hermione – but he'd shot inside with the aggression of a starving ferret into a rabbit hole.

"Uncle, you will never speak to any of my friends like that again. Is that clear?"

Petunia squeaked, clutching her cup of tea. Dudley froze. Vernon's eyes bulged and he dropped his newspaper. His face swelled with rage as he rose to his feet, then approached Harry. "WHAT! What did you say, boy!"

Harry pulled out his wand and aimed it squarely at the man. "I've decided to harm you permanently. Would you like to spend the rest of your life in pain, fear, and–"

"–You wouldn't! You..." Vernon faltered, unsure of himself for once.

"Oh, wouldn't I?" stormed Harry. "I've put up with your rudeness long enough, but now you've stepped over the line. I'm more powerful now. I know things. I won't hesitate, I warn you!"

"GET OUT!" Vernon slumped back in his seat.

"WHAT'S THE MAGIC WORD?" shouted Harry.

"I've told you! Don't EVER use that–"

"–SAY IT!" Harry's arm crackled with magic right down to the tip of his wand, powered by his rage.

Vernon cringed. "Get out, ... _please_"

"That's better. BUT REMEMBER WHAT I'VE SAID!"

Outside, Harry braced himself on the front step, chest heaving, and praying that the episode would not begin again, or worse, that Fate might fling him right back to King's Cross. Yet nothing changed. Life was continuing in spite of threatening his uncle. When he rejoined the others, Neville said, "Harry, you're shaking."

"I'm fine. Come on, how are we–"

"–The Knight Bus," cried Hermione. I promise you'll love it, Harry!" She stuck out her wand and there was a thunderous screech as a tall, triple-decker purple bus pulled alongside them.

As they boarded, Neville said, "No need to worry about the Trace, Harry, because you don't actually _use_ magic to–"

"–The what?"

"The Underage Trace, Harry," said Hermione, and began to recite, "According to Section 24 of the Statute of Secrecy, Subsection 12: _Children under the age of seventeen must not perform magic without the supervision of an adult witch or wizard, especially in front of uninformed Muggles, except in defence of themselves or others while_–"

"–What? Why don't they teach us that at Hogwarts! How are we supposed to know?"

"Harry, it came up in History – you were asleep, remember?"

"Oh, yeah... right." He fell silent for a few moments as the bus raced through the streets at breakneck speed. "Then what about your Remembrall, Neville? That's magical. And my invisibility cloak!"

Hermione cut in, "Enchanted objects and potions and other types of passive magic are fine in front of _informed_ Muggles because the magic was already conducted in the creation of those things. I mean, it's not _you_ performing it really – Oh look, we're here! Neville, your home looks so different in the sunshine!"

Harry smiled grimly to himself. He knew they'd have to visit Diagon Alley later in the summer to collect their books. Perhaps...

.

Harry's Birthdays

Harry lay back in the most comfortable bed he'd ever slept in and smiled. The day had been simply perfect. They'd combined his birthday with Neville's and the entire party had reached a climax through the witching hour, when Harry himself had turned twelve. Tired but happy, the three friends were finally ushered up the wooden hill to Bedfordshire by Mrs Longbottom.

The boy was just relaxing into a delicious dozy dream when he was awakened by the tiny sound of movement in his room. He fumbled blindly for his wand then stared in horror as a pale creature crept towards him, the like of which he'd never seen before, even in his worst nightmares. Gripped by fear, Harry yelled, "Relashio!" to drive away the monstrosity. The full force of his magic thrust the fiend against the far wall. Harry distinctly heard its neck snap.

"Harry Potter, sir!" said the creature, in a failing, high-pitched voice. "Such an honour..."

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY NEVILLE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY HARRY!"

Harry blinked against the bright sunlight streaming in through the kitchen window but he wasn't the slightest bit sleepy anymore!

"Thanks, Hermione," only Neville replied, "and good morning to you."

"Take a seat at the table, child," said Mrs Longbottom. "The porridge is hot and there's toast aplenty."

"Harry? What's wrong?" said Hermione, as she sat down.

"Uuh..." He closed his gaping mouth and lowered his fork on which was impaled the same big fat sausage he'd eaten twenty-four hours earlier. "Nothing. I'm just so... just never been so... happy!" He smiled and chomped hard into the tasty food. Today was going to be another great double-birthday!

Once again it was a _perfect_ day, a full day, and by the end of it, Harry had completely forgotten about his experience of the night before. He was just dozing off when...

"Harry Potter, sir...?" came a whisper in a high-pitched voice. "Such an honour..."

Harry suppressed a scream and tried to grab his wand from his bedside table – but knocked everything onto the floor with a clatter. "Keep away from me! What do you want!" He tumbled out of bed and groped about on the floor for his wand, but could see little in the gloom. "Who are you!" he called over his shoulder as he squirmed to reach under the bed.

"Dobby, sir. Just Dobby. Dobby the house-elf," said the creature.

Harry felt his backside exposed and vulnerable but he just _had_ to reach his wand. _Delay it! Keep the thing talking!_ Panicking, out of breath, he panted, "Why – you – my bedroom – middle of – night?" He squinted hard into the darkness under the springs – pushed aside a chamberpot to reach beyond it – snatched – rolled – banged his head as he lifted himself to aim madly at the elf. "I'll use this if I have to!"

"Your spectacles, sir? Might Dobby help Harry Potter put them on?"

Harry frowned. "You're a what?" A shocking thought entered his head. "You're not... Mrs Longbottom's servant, are you? I didn't know she– I'm really sorry if–"

"–Dobby does not serve this house, no, sir. Dobby came to warn the great Harry Potter, sir."

"Warn me? Couldn't you have come during the day?"

"Dobby did, sir, many times, but Harry Potter was having such a wonderful time with his friends..."

"That was you behind the hedge, wasn't it? I thought I heard something. And pulling on my leg under the table, but there was nothing there when I looked."

Dobby simpered guiltily. "Only because there is a danger sir. _Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts._"

"What! But I love it there! I'm having the greatest, most perfectly happy time of my life!"

"There is a plot, Harry Potter. A plot to make most terrible things happen," whispered Dobby, suddenly trembling all over. "Harry Potter must not put himself in peril. He is too important, sir!"

"What terrible things?" said Harry at once. "Who's plotting them? And what makes you think I'm important?"

Dobby made a funny choking noise and then banged his head madly against the wall.

"Stop, stop!" cried Harry, grabbing the elf's arm. "Okay, I get it: you can't tell me. But if my friends might be in danger too, then I MUST go, don't you see? In fact, I WILL go, and nothing you can say will–"

"–HAPPY BIRTHDAY NEVILLE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY HARRY!"

Harry blinked against the bright sunlight streaming in through the kitchen window, yet he wasn't the slightest bit sleepy anymore.

That evening he wasted no time in dismissing the elf. He'd never been allowed to celebrate his birthday before and was determined to make up for it with as many as he could. All day, he carefully avoided every indication of the elf's presence until he went to bed. Summer seemed endless. Many, many weeks of birthdays followed before, fully satisfied, he relented.

"Very well, Dobby, I promise I won't go to Hogwarts again."

Dobby's great bulging eyes shone with adoration. "Harry Potter is truly a noble wizard." The elf vanished.

"I don't have to be noble, Dobby," Harry murmured drowsily, "I have Destiny on my side..." And with that he fell fast asleep.

.

Fighting Destiny

The next day, Harry's own 'real' birthday was rather low-key – that was to be expected, and Harry welcomed the quietness after the overwhelming exuberance he'd expended over so many weeks. There was a time and place for everything, and clearly Hermione and Neville had picked up on this for they were sat in the library, heads together, quietly discussing the contents of a Herbology reference book they considered might be of use in the coming year.

Mixed feelings accompanied Harry to his room. The three friends were bonding well together but the sight of his two companions without him evoked a curious sense of... envy? It made no sense. He could have joined them, so why...?

Harry frowned and decided to go through his travel bag in search of distraction by way of a Muggle novel he'd bought recently. He riddled through with his wand, wishing for a finding spell, when he came to his invisibility cloak. Upon it, rested the curious stone with the circle in a triangle etched on it. He couldn't remember taking it out of his Hogwarts chest. Perhaps it had got caught up in his cloak.

As he nudged it aside with the tip of his wand, a forgotten memory whispered in his head. He tugged his cloak out of the way, found his paperback, but the unknown, unthinkable words from his mind remained, intangibly, as if on the tip of his tongue.

Trying to read did not help. He lay back on his bed, struggling to think. A bumble bee hummed by his window. The lace curtains fluttered dreamily in the tiny breeze from the opened sash. He could hear his own breathing.

"_So many dead..._" Whispering voices.

Startled, Harry sat upright. "Who...?" _No, I know what you are, don't I? You're Magic. But how do I know?_

"_Shall the Master of Death, empowered with limitless possibilities, willingly accept less than perfection?"_

"My life IS perfect! What more–?"

–Then, in a vague mist, it came to him. _There's some kind of future isn't there? A battle? Things I have to do again, and again?_

"_Magic IS Destiny, Harry._"

"I don't want it! I'm happy now! I won't do it! I'll fight my destiny"

When Magic next spoke, it was as if Hermione breathed in his ear:

"_It can't fail, Harry, otherwise it wouldn't be Destiny, would it?"_

"NNNNNOOOOOOOO!"

Footsteps thundering up the stairs startled him back to wakefulness. "Are you alright, Harry!"

Neville and Hermione burst in. "We heard you shouting! Is–"

"–Sorry. Think I dozed off. Bad dream." He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stretched his arms.

Hermione had crouched down to pick up the book which he must have thrown across the room. She sighed. "I'm not surprised. _The Time Machine?_ Morlocks? Enough to give anyone nightmares, Harry. Listen, the future isn't fixed. Life is what you make it. Come on, we're having iced drinks in the garden."

As his friends laughingly departed, Harry could not help wondering what his own destiny might be, and if it really was inevitable – or whether he wanted it at all.

.

Socks and Stuff

"Knockturn Alley!" squealed Hermione. "I can't believe you've been down there, Harry!" She frowned at the changed strap over his shoulder – it supported a rather dull-coloured duffle bag. "A different backpack? It's more scruffy than your old one. Is that all you bought? "

"That and loads more," cried Harry, as they took seats outside Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. "Watch." He reached round and, as he stroked the side of his bag, it flattened and faded from view. "It's a _Maximoke_ with an Undetectable Extension Charm."

Neville nodded his approval. "That's impressive, Harry, but–"

–Harry held up his hand to halt his friends' first doubts, then swung the invisible bag down onto the floor. He paused until after they were served with bowls of _Chocablock_, then pulled out a handful of what looked like green beans which he sprinkled onto the table.

"Erm... not _quite_ so impressive," Neville said flatly.

"Oh, they're just _Quiet Peas_ so nobody can overhear us while I show you what else I got!"

First, he heaved out a big travel cloak of midnight blue, then spread it over the back of his seat. "Ever-expanding no matter much I grow, and bewitched with a permanent warming charm for the coldest of winters. No need to cast spells you see?"

Next a small squiggly-wire device was lifted up onto the table. It glinted gold in the morning sunshine. "_Secrecy Sensor_. Come on, tell me some things that are mostly true but one of which conceals anything you don't want me to know."

"You want us to lie?" Hermione said.

"Not exactly, but hide some information from me."

She rolled her eyes upwards and her spoon dobbed ice cream on her chin which she rubbed off irritably. "A bit of wire can't possibly read minds, Harry!"

"Try it. Come on, Hermione, you're the smartest of us."

She scowled. "Statements of fact? Surely, you can't mean like, 'Roses are red, Violets are blue, Sugar is sweet, And so are you'?" She shook her head disdainfully, yet, intrigued by the challenge, began trying to think of some statements that would expose the device as fraudulent. ... "Okay, I've got one it can't possibly get right." She smoothed her robes down to make sure they were covering her feet. "Grass is green. ... Sky is blue. ... My socks are dark brown."

A singing, humming noise assailed their ear as the golden aerial vibrated.

"You see? My socks really are dark brown, so it doesn't work. Just randomly vibrates when you talk, expecting someone, sooner or later, to be hiding something; it's a mere party trick."

Harry frowned.

Neville looked thoughtful. "You wore dark brown yesterday, Hermione. Perhaps it's because you've not changed your socks and don't want anyone to know?"

Hermione's eyes bulged and she scrunched up her nose in annoyance. "I'll have you know, Neville Longbottom, that I have FOUR pairs of dark brown socks, and they ARE regularly laundered – and what is more, I also Scourgify them several times a day – so there!"

"What then?"

"And how come you even know what colour socks I wore yesterday, anyway!"

Neville's cheeks became tinged with pink. "Erm... must be, perhaps they're not quite dark brown, more of a..."

The Sensor vibrated even more.

"What are _you_ hiding, Neville?"

"No, I think it's still humming from what you said."

"No it stopped when–"

"–So you agree it vibrated when–"

"–Oh!" Hermione covered her ears and squinted tightly; her own cheeks were rather flushed now too. "Okay, okay, it's just that... oh, very well... one of my socks is inside out and I didn't have time to correct it before we came out this morning."

"Oh Merlin! Call the Aurors!" laughed Neville. "Hermione Granger's sock is inside out!"

"Well..."

"Show me."

"What! I am not going to show you my sock, Neville. And stop looking at my socks."

But Neville did not answer her. His face had become solemn. "What is it, Harry? You've gone very–"

"–It's nothing! I'm fine!" The Secrecy Sensor burst out with a high-pitched whine so loud that he stuffed it away in his bag and drew out several things as rapidly as possible. He began talking even faster:

"_Ageing Potion ... Mini Foe-Glass Ultra ... Houdini's Compass_ – nobody buys this stuff because they can do the magic – _Glow Warms_ – look, they keep out the cold as well as lighting your way even when you can't use your wand. Well, not so bright in this sunshine, but still..."

"So this is all about the Trace?" said Hermione, watching Neville finish his _Chocablock_ and wondering if he had really been keeping an eye on her socks all last year.

"Well, yeah," said Harry, "it was your idea really, when you said we can't _perform_ magic but we can _use_ it. I've also bought a portable _Sneakoscope, Whirling Dreadlock, Squib's Wand,_ and–"

"–A what! Now that _is_ impossible!"

"It's just an enchanted stick Hypatia made for her mother in the 4th century; it doesn't draw on your magic so, yeah, even a Muggle could use it."

"But it must be illegal!"

"Not if used by a wizard," grinned Harry. He swished up some tiny drops of water whose spray caught Hermione in the face. She rubbed her nose in amazement.

He cocked his head on one side. "Hello? Hear that? It's the thunder of hundreds of Aurors NOT coming to arrest me!"

He laughed and looked fondly upon his new acquisition. "There's twenty pragmagic household charms to clean, dry, freeze, thaw, cook, reveal, illuminate, fetch and carry, open and close or – hey! where are _they_ all going?" He stared around. More and more families were surging past, heading in the same direction.

"Come on, Neville!" cried Hermione, glancing at her watch. "Professor Lockhart is signing books at Flourish and Blotts!"

"I'll catch you up!" shouted Harry, scooping up his _Quiet Peas_ and wondering if they'd even heard him.

He swallowed his last few spoonfuls of _Chocablock_ as he watched them depart, squinting in vain to see Hermione's odd sock in the distance, then smiling smugly to himself at the thought that his Secrecy Sensor hadn't made a sound when she'd said, 'Sugar is sweet, And so are you.' – the girl had not concealed any feelings that contradicted her declaration! He hummed happily to himself as he wandered after his friends, feeling exceptionally contented with life.

.

Lying Low In Flourish and Blotts

"We can actually meet him!" Hermione was squealing and jumping up and down as Harry approached the front of the bookshop. "I mean, he's written almost the whole booklist!"

The crowd seemed to be made up mostly of witches jostling to get inside. A harassed-looking wizard stood at the door, saying, "Calmly, please ladies ... don't push, there ... mind the books, now ..."

Neville and Hermione had already struggled into the shop but Harry couldn't see a way to manoeuvre through to them without seeming rude. As his eyes darted about, looking for another route, a curious hush flowed like a wave across the throng and a narrow space began to open up. "It's Harry Potter!" many were saying in a reverent tone. He shook his head, embarrassed.

"Come through, Harry!" said a fair-haired girl with pigtails. "I'm Hannah and this is Susan."

He nodded and smiled awkwardly as he began to squeeze between so many young girls. "Sorry ... oh, sorry – omigod that was an accident, honest!"

"It's Harry!" – "Harry Potter!" – "He's so polite!" came the whispers breathed from all around him. A hand gently touched his shoulder for a moment; fingers feathered his neck, someone knelt to kiss the hem of his robe... But as he passed the threshold, another had overheard them...

"It can't be! Harry Potter?" A very good-looking wizard with wavy blond hair and bright blue eyes was gesturing for him to move forward and get his photo taken for the Daily Prophet when–

"–Come through, Harry!" said the pigtailed girl again. "I'm Hannah and this is Susan."

He blinked but quickly realised Fate had plans other than celebrity for him, because he was back beyond the crowd outside the shop door. He nodded and smiled awkwardly as he wriggled between the twisting bodies of so many young girls – and some not so young. "It's Harry – Harry Potter" came the whispers breathed from all around him.

"Shush!" he whispered. "I don't want–"

"–It can't be! Harry Potter?" – That must be Lockhart, thought Harry, he's–

"–Come through, Harry!" repeated Hannah. "I'm Hannah and this is Susan."

There was no time or place to pull out his invisibility cloak. "Can you hide me?" he blurted out with an awkward smile. "Only I don't want to be seen by–"

"–He needs our help!" sighed a girl with short black hair. The girls closed in around Harry as they moved inside the shop. "Duck down," breathed Hannah, pushing down on his head – "Wha–?" He was forced into an awkward crouch where he could see and feel nothing but waists and hips and legs and–

–_This is worse than Lockhart! Why doesn't Destiny–_

–Round warmth pressed against his face, forcing him along with the excited gathering. He could hardly breathe for so many perfumes...

"We're safely in a corner, Harry," Susan whispered down to him. "We'll tell you when the coast is clear."

"_Thank you,_" croaked Harry, who couldn't see a corner at all – nor anything more angular than a dimpled knee really. He was just wondering what a particularly soft curve was when–

"–Hello, Harry, it's me, Katie – Katie Bell." An older girl had squashed down beside him, her chest rubbing down his Maximoke, flattening it utterly and rendering it invisible again. "I say, this is all very exciting, isn't it?"

"Uuh... yeah."

"Gilderoy's signing now, but don't worry, shouldn't take more than thirty or forty–"

"–But–"

"–It's okay, we're taking turns, then coming back to keep you covered." She rose up again until her face was lost in the shapes above. He stared at her bare ankles, thinking of Hermione for some reason.

A rustling sound alerted him to another girl squashing down with him. – "Hello, Harry, I'm Katie's friend, Leanne." – He stared at her lips. Her eyes were bright. She was beautiful even in the dark forest of femininity surrounding them. – "Are you still with Hermione, or...?"

"Erm, yeah."

"Oh." A trace of disappointment clouded her otherwise inviting expression. "Well, if you need any help with anything, anything at all... you know..."

"I'm okay actually," said Harry quickly.

She drew in air suddenly, "Ouch – my hand's a bit trapped behind me.. mind if I..."

Harry thought he could feel his Secrecy Sensor vibrating between their bodies as she curled an arm round his shoulder and–

"–Come on, Leanne, It's my go now!" hissed a voice from above.

And so it went on as girl after girl descended to convey their interest in his welfare. Harry wondered whether to leap up and and escape by shouting to Lockhart. Likely though he'd only be forced back to begin the sequence again. _Imagine being squashed forever amongst dozens of squirming girls,_ he thought to himself. _Anyone would go bonkers._ Should he break out anyway then slink away somewhere? He decided to hang on grimly. This wasn't part of Destiny surely? There could have been other ways to avoid publicity. This was his punishment for not waiting outside round the corner until–

"–we're making a run for it, Harry," came Hannah's voice from above. "Crowd's thinned out a bit so we can wobble you casually through to the Used Books section now. Don't be concerned if we sway nonchalantly about a little bit – that's so nobody takes any notice it's intentional."

There was more than a _little_ bit of intentional swaying, but not much thinning until finally he could surface and breathe once more. There was less glare in this department and if Lockhart was still in the shop he was well out of view.

"See you at school, _Harry_," giggled the girls, whispering his name conspiratorially.

As they spread out, Harry saw another menace: the red-haired Weasley clan were searching the bargain bins to buy cheap books for their youngest. How was he to avoid talking to them?

"Where've you been?" Neville and Hermione hurried over. "We got your schoolbooks for you."

"Thanks."

Hermione said, "Harry, you'd better lie low; Draco's here with his father."

He was about to say he'd had enough lying low for one morning but somehow, when she moved in close to obscure him, it felt quite different to his earlier smothering. Her fragrance was more delicate, her breath sweeter...

"Harry...?"

"Erm... how come Draco's out? The Prophet said he was given eighteen months in a Ministry cell."

Neville, who was guarding Harry's flank, pulled a gloomy, resigned face. "Fudge discharged him on account of his good behaviour."

"Good? Him? That's about as daft as– hey, you don't reckon he'll be coming back to–"

"–Hogwarts?," said Hermione. "There's no way Dumbledore will have him back. No, Malfoy's at a school in northern Europe where– Harry, you're trembling ... and uumm... humming? Is that your...?"

Harry frowned. "Sensor." He opened his bag and a faint tinny whistle emerged as well. "My Sneakoscope!" He drew it out and placed it on the palm of Neville's hand. The sphere was spinning very fast and glowing brilliantly. _Warning me away from the Weasleys!_ he thought to himself, and looked towards an exit at the back of the shop. He made a sudden dash–

"–Harry, you'd better lie low, Draco's here with his father," said Hermione, moving in close. Her scent was fragile as a misty moonbeam, her breath sweeter than Honeysuckle dew...

"Harry...?"

"Erm..."

A minute or so passed. "He's still there. What are they doing?" she murmured. Harry, you're trembling ... and uumm... humming? Is that your...?"

Harry frowned. "Uuh... just nerves, I suppose."

"But..."

Neville said, "They're arguing now – him and Mr Weasley."

"Yeah?" said Harry, certain he must not get involved with the Weasleys.

"They're fighting!" said Neville.

Hermione's head twisted around to look. Her bushy hair was full in Harry's face. He drank in her perfume...

"Sorry," she said. "What do you think we should do?"

"He's leaving," said Neville.

"Who?" murmured Harry, dreamily.

"–Harry, you'd better lie low, Draco's here with his father," said Hermione, moving in even closer. Her scent was as delicate as fairy down in a Martian breeze, her breath God's choir ascending...

"Harry...?"

"Erm..."

A minute or so passed. "He's still there. What are they doing?" she murmured. Harry, you're shaking. Is that your...?"

"Nerves."

"But..."

Neville said something.

Hermione's head twisted around to look. Harry breathed in her hair.

"Oh, sorry," she said. "What do you think we should do?"

Neville murmured something way in the distance.

"–Harry, you'd better lie low..." murmured Hermione yet again, moving in close. Her scent was as delicate as a butterfly's whisper, her breath love everlasting...

"Harry...?"

"Mmm...?"

A minute or so passed. "He's still there..." she murmured. "Harry, you're all a quiver, and... hyperventilating."

"Uuh..."

"But..."

Neville said something.

Hermione's head twisted around to look. Harry drowned in her hair.

"Oh, sorry," she said. "What do you think...?"

Neville murmured something way, way, way in the distance.

Eternity passed for Harry Potter before a faint half-memory murmured through his delicious stupor: _... dwell on dreams ... forget to live._ The realisation occurred to him that he was subtly trapped. Just as trapped, perhaps even more so, than when he'd been physically surrounded by – he tried to remember but could not. Soft, sensual forms holding him on all sides... what had that been...? His eyes opened!

"Harry, you're trembling ... you've stopped breathing. Is that your...?"

Harry frowned. "Sensor." He opened his bag and a faint tinny whistle emerged as well. "My Sneakoscope!" He drew it out and placed it on the palm of Neville's hand. The sphere was spinning very fast and glowing brilliantly. He gasped and drew out his Foe-glass too, turning it to focus on one man. "Look!"

Hermione leaned forward to peer at the shadowy figure within the glass. "There's a name!"

"Lucius Malfoy," snarled Harry. "The shopkeeper told me this Ultra version located nearby adversaries and even named them, especially if there were dark intentions. Come on!"

"Harry! What are you–"

–But Mr Malfoy and Mr Weasley were already fighting. Hagrid strode forward and pulled them apart. Malfoy thrust a book towards Ron's younger sister. Harry's instruments gave out an ear-splitting howl.

"STOP HIM!" shouted Harry.

All eyes swung his way, most especially Mr Malfoy's. "YOU!" His wand hand shot up to threaten Harry – but something strange happened: amidst a bright blue flash Mr Malfoy's wand erupted into splinters and his hand along with it, causing the man to scream in pain. Harry's own wand, which he hadn't realised he was somehow already holding, smouldered, hissed like a cobra and spat blood. He swiftly put it away but knew everyone had seen it.

"Harry?" Hagrid bellowed above the intense screaming. "What yeh doin'!"

"I... I..."

"Curse you, Potter!" shrieked Malfoy clutching the wrist of his shattered stump. "You'll die begging in Azkaban for this!"

"Mr Weasley! – the book, Mr Weasley," shouted Harry, pointing at Ginny, who still held it in her hand.

Mr Weasley moved quickly to examine Ginny's book. He discovered a diary inside and looked questioningly at his daughter. She shook her head. He cast several spells then his eyes bulged with horror. When he whirled around, Malfoy was halfway to the exit – but Hagrid was faster. "Not so fast, Lucius."

.

The Impostor

"We cannot award House Points for actions performed outside of Hogwarts' influence, said McGonagall, but we want you to know that we're very proud of you, Potter."

"Thank you, Professor."

"Off you go then."

When Harry entered the Gryffindor common room, only a few older students were still awake, already studying for exams at the end of the school year. One lone figure wearing a dressing gown sat in a corner.

"Hermione? Has Neville already gone up to bed?"

She nodded. "We waited, but weren't sure how long – oh, what did she say, Harry! You're not in trouble?"

He grinned. "Says she proud of me. Told me that the Headmaster thinks the diary is cursed and I saved Ginny Weasley and the school from a terrible fate. He commended me for buying a Sneakoscope after what happened last year with Quirrell. I didn't tell them about the other stuff I bought."

"I am too, Harry."

"You're what?"

"Proud of you."

He gaped at her, wondering what to say. "Oh well, I didn't do anything much really but point my wand."

Hermione rose to her feet then and kissed him lightly on the cheek before heading towards the girls' stairs. He stared after the girl, watching her ascend until only her pastel yellow bed socks were visible. Once they too were out of sight, he made his own way up to sleep.

"Harry," whispered Neville, as he entered their dorm. "Your Sneakoscope's going crazy – listen."

There was a muffled hum from the Maximoke in his trunk. He looked around. The other boys were fast asleep. Harry fumbled into his bag and wrapped the scope in Hermione's knickers before burying them back deep underneath his travel cloak. "There's lot of mischief going on in schools, Neville. I'll see if I can calibrate it better in the morning, don't worry."

Neville nodded and turned over on his side. "Goodnight, Harry."

"– 'Night."

Harry undressed, but could not resist checking his Foe Glass before turning in. He frowned. There was a real shadow in the glass. It was small but very dark, and, when he pointed the device around the room to find a direction, so was the name: _Peter Pettigrew._

Harry stared at Ron's sleeping form. Had the red-haired boy been an impostor all this time? Was that why Magic had prevented him from making friends on the train the year before? Well he'd survived this long, and Destiny would just restart him back at King's Cross if he was murdered in his sleep, so Harry lay down, pulled the bedcovers over himself, and closed his eyes. But he did not sleep easy that night, and he dreamt of Ron Weasley being expelled for strangling the boy who lived, but pardoned by the Minister for Magic who was patting him on the head because of his good behaviour.

.

Rat Attack Tactic

Harry was awoken the next morning by the sound of Dean and Seamus laughing hysterically. "So the g–good n–news is," choked Seamus, clutching his sides, "even though Malfoy can no longer wipe his own arse, he won't need to bother in Azkaban, will he!"

"Good one, Seamus," said Ron, as they set off down to breakfast together.

Harry lay still for another minute, thinking.

"You awake, Harry?" said Neville, who was already dressing.

"Yeah." Harry sighed, sat up, and prepared for the opening day of school lessons. He'd decided in that first minute that he'd have to tell Dumbledore about Ron's true identity. Neville told him he'd go down to breakfast with Hermione and save Harry a seat. Harry nodded.

It was quiet in the dormitory now everyone had left. Several minutes passed before he finally reached under his pillow, frowned, then fumbled down inside his Maximoke to–

"–Looking for this, Harry?"

Harry spun round. A man was sitting on Ron's bed and staring with small, watery eyes directly at Harry. In one grubby hand he held Harry's wand with its deathly power now pointed at its true master.

"You're him, aren't you? Peter Pettigrew?"

"Well done, Harry. I heard you last night. Saw you looking at your Foe Glass. But I can't let you tell anyone I'm here, you know."

"Why _are_ you here?"

"You should be more careful where you leave your wand. Could be the death of you." His armed stiffened – Harry didn't need Destiny to tell him something bad was coming – "_Av–_"

–Harry still had one arm in the Maximoke – he tilted up the soft bag defensively – Pettigrew squeaked with laughter and began his incantation again – the bag faded to reveal... a fist-sized jet of water hit the intruder in the face, knocking him backwards and – "AAAAGHHH!" – The drenching had frozen half the man's side and arm to the bed – the knobbly wand leapt back eagerly to its master, 'fetched' by the Squib wand.

Deep pain showed on Pettigrew's face as, gritting his sharp little teeth, he tried to break free. "_How...?"_ – The man vanished – a rat shook icy water from its fur then bounded onto the floor – Harry threw his Whirling Dreadlock.

"Scabbers?" Harry nudged the creature with his foot. It was squirming, but not even Houdini himself was ever able to escape the terrifying steel braids of a Dreadlock. "If you can understand me, rat, don't fight the constrictions, it will just sap your magic faster."

Harry felt for the Maximoke and took out his Foe Glass. There was no doubt this rat was still someone called Peter Pettigrew. But who was he? And why was he here?

After drying Ron's bed with the versatile Squib wand, Harry took his captive down to the Great Hall where he approached the staff table.

"What have you there, Harry?" said Dumbledore.

"Sorry to disturb your breakfast, Headmaster, but I caught this in our dorm–"

"–Mr Potter!" cried Professor McGonagall, recoiling from the rat squirming in Harry's grasp, "could you not have–"

"–It's real name is Peter Pettigrew but I don't–"

"–Come with me, Harry," Dumbledore said quietly.

.

Happy as a Dig in Sheesh

"I saved you some toast, Harry," whispered Hermione, as he joined his friends in Herbology. Harry gratefully took the slices below the line of seed trays and bent down to munch now and again. He took the opportunity to study Hermione's socks at close range: the white cotton had been carefully pressed and was linen fresh.

"_Hermione,_" he whispered, "_you don't seriously iron your–_"

"–Knead the dragon-dung into nice plump shapes before you bung it in your biggest pot," Professor Sprout was saying. "Wet it liberally if it is not sloppy enough, then dig it well in."

"So what happened?" Neville said eagerly, up to his elbows in stinking turds.

Harry wrinkled up his nose against the pungent smell as he crunched toast. "Ron's rat was really a wizard! He betrayed my parents to Voldemort and framed someone else."

"No way, Harry!" hissed Hermione, pulling on thick gloves that smelt of scorched leather.

Harry imagined dragon fire for a few moments, but that picture was quickly replaced in his head with one of Hermione labouring over an ironing board neatly pressing sturdy gloves, dainty little socks, and–"

"–Harry?"

"Er... yeah. The Aurors said he'd be sent to Azkaban – like forever." Harry surfaced and pretended to examine his pot, but he was really hiding a handful of toast behind it.

"Now, who can tell me the properties of the Mandrake?" cried Professor Sprout.

Hermione's elbow narrowly missed Harry's nose as her arm shot in the air. "Mandrake, or Mandragora, is a powerful restorative," she began, sounding as usual as though she had swallowed the textbook...

"Well done! Ten points to Gryffindor!"

Hermione's face lit up like glory, and Harry found himself grinning too. He wiped crumbs off his mouth then dug into his steaming plop with relish. Nothing ever spoilt his happiness for long. He was destined for an enjoyable year he felt sure, a perfect year.

.

Loss of Face

But Harry's confidence wilted somewhat as they began their first Defence class. Lockhart's lesson began with a ridiculously narcissistic quiz. As the vain professor marked their results, Ron Weasley was staring at the teacher with an expression of disbelief, while Seamus and Dean were shaking with silent laughter. Hermione, on the other hand, was listening to Lockhart with rapt attention. Harry frowned. There was something not quite right about the arrogant wizard; Harry's Secrecy Sensor in his Maximoke had been vibrating softly against his leg ever since he'd sat down. Clearly the teacher was hiding something – and it wasn't just the large, covered cage he was lifting onto his desk.

"Now – be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind: freshly caught Cornish pixies!"

There was pandemonium as he released them. Pixies sprayed in every direction like blue bats sprung from hell. Two of them tried to seize Neville by the ears but Harry whipped out his Muggle wand and sent the little imps hurtling out the open window towards the Forest. In fact, with his enchanted stick he found it quite easy to fetch and carry whole groups of pixies wherever he wished; it was all a matter of how you gripped, twisted, pressed, and pointed the stick. They must be really weak-minded creatures, he thought to himself – then he found himself looking at Lockhart's simpering, sickening, self-indulgent smile. For all their half-witted idiocy, the pixies had easily swapped a stick of rhubarb for the conceited teacher's wand. "I wonder..."

"No, don't lose them! Round them up, round them up!" shouted Lockhart trying to catch pixies as they shot out the window. "Come back!"

Now was Harry's chance. He aimed _almost_ at a pixie directly in line with Lockhart...

"Where's Lockhart going!" yelled Ron. "He's climbing out after them!"

And certainly, as the children ran to the windows, they could see their bedazzled instructor in a mad run, arms wildly windmilling his rhubarb, unable to brake, heading straight for the Forest.

Hermione meanwhile, had petrified the remaining imps and stuffed them back in their cage. The lesson was over but Harry couldn't help but wonder if Lockhart would be bad-tempered or worse in their next class.

Yet over the following few days, the professor still hadn't returned. His wand was found, covered in pixie droppings, on top of a high cupboard in the classroom, but everyone assumed the man himself had lost so much face he was too embarrassed to show it again at the school. By Halloween, the Ministry had, once more, been forced to assign an Auror to teach Defence at Hogwarts, and the rhubarb was never recovered.

.

Happy Days

Peter Pettigrew was eventually sent to serve out the rest of life in Azkaban and the remainder of the year passed smoothly. Without strife or conflict, life at Hogwarts was very good indeed. Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Neville Longbottom became ever firmer friends, spending every holiday together either at the Grangers or Longbottom House. Number four, Privet Drive became merely a temporary base, an address for mail and a dumping ground for the travel chest which he Dreadlocked atop his old mattress in the cupboard under the stairs. He was too big to sleep in there at all now, and with Dudley still hogging two bedrooms to himself, and the Squib wand to keep the Dursleys at bay, there was nothing to keep him at home for more than a day.

_Life at Hogwarts is perfect,_ Harry smiled to himself.

.

—oOo—

.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

_How could Harry use the Relashio spell on Lucius without triggering the Underage Trace? The reason is that the Ministry spell would assume he was being supervised by a nearby adult Magical person: Madam Longbottom. It's rather like a learner driver. In the UK you must have a qualified adult driver with you until you pass your driving exam. _

_starburst98 hopes the story won't have all the years repeating. No, you won't have to re-read endless accounts of all the years! Also why did he not get 17-year-old Harry's memories? The answer is that Magic did not cause him to travel back in time but to begin afresh just as he was when he started Hogwarts, and with the mind and memories he had then. But when he doesn't get things perfect then Destiny does cause events to repeat so he can learn from his mistakes. _

_Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging. Let me know of any weaknesses or faults – I'm always trying to improve my writing so feedback is really useful._ :)

**– Hippothestrowl**

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	3. Coming Together

.

_So far... Harry has to relive his time at Hogwarts over and over until he fulfils his destiny. He forms close friendships only with Hermione and Neville. He's caused Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle to be expelled, exposed Quirrell, Pettigrew, and Lucius Malfoy, banished Lockhart, and humiliated Snape. Life at Hogwarts is perfect. Now read on... _

.

**Chapter 3**

**Coming Together**

* * *

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Formal Encounter

The blissful state of Harry's second year at Hogwarts continued into his third. His life never repeated once – it hadn't needed to. There was heavy snowfall towards the end of December, but on the last day before Christmas, something new occurred to elevate his happiness even higher. It began in the Headmaster's office, where Harry was introduced to the man that had previously been wrongfully imprisoned for Pettigrew's crimes.

"It is a measure of how extreme the conditions are in Azkaban," said Dumbledore, "that it has taken over a year of convalescing in St. Mungo's to recover from the effects of that incarceration."

The Headmaster waited in vain for Harry's response but saw only a puzzled expression on the boy's face. The old man sighed, realising that likely Harry knew almost nothing about his early life and that he would need to explain. "Sirius Black was a good friend of your parents and is your godfather, Harry," he said.

Harry politely took the hand that was offered. "Erm... what does that mean exactly?"

"Well, Harry," said Sirius, "A godparent takes a special interest in the welfare and happiness during their godchild's upbringing–"

–Harry nodded and released a bitter sigh. "To be cared for would have been wonderful–"

"–and a godparent may accept guardianship in the event of their parents' deaths."

"Instead of my Aunt Petunia?"

Dumbledore said, "Harry, for the time being, you need to remain with your blood relatives until you are old enough to live your own life."

Harry's shoulders slumped, and he wondered why this stranger was here at all. He knew nothing about him as a person and the Headmaster seemed to be saying he never would. "I see," he murmured, not seeing at all. "Well, I'm glad you're free at any rate, Mr Black."

"Thanks to you, Harry," smiled Sirius.

"Pettigrew was trying to kill me; I was lucky to trick him."

"More than lucky, I'd say. I heard about Malfoy and Quirrell."

"Yeah, well, I just want to live a normal life, but sometimes I think I'm cursed."

A few moments without conversation passed awkwardly.

Black shuffled his feet a little. "Anyway, just remember, if there's any way I can help you, Harry – you could come over this Christmas if you like."

"Ah... already fixed with my friends – I can't let them down, sorry." Harry turned to go, treating Black's last remark as a parting offer – which he knew it wasn't.

"Do you play Quidditch, Harry?" Black said quickly.

"Erm, no – but I saw it played once. Muggles don't have it you see. Missed out on a lot of things when I was... oh, that reminds me, I nearly forgot, Headmaster, uuh... Hermione Granger asked me to ask you if her parents could visit Hogwarts one day during the holidays?"

"Alas, I regret that Muggles will only see a mouldy old ruin..."

"Aah, pity – that's a shame. ... Okay, I'll break it to her. Nice to meet you, Mr Black."

With that he went out. As he descended the spiral stairs just outside, he asked himself, _What was that all about?_ He'd expected Destiny to intervene several times to make it all clear, but perhaps the stranger wasn't critical to his future now that he spent all his holidays with Hermione and Neville? So why was he fated to meet the man at all? Perhaps he wasn't. Perhaps sometimes stuff just happened and Destiny only intervened on essential things. He'd have to test that to be absolutely–

–He stopped in mid-step, scowling. If that was the case then Destiny didn't care about his happiness at all, but only whatever he was fated to do! It didn't give a damn about whether he had friends! He thought back to the episode on the train in first year. It hadn't been _essential_ to befriend them – only to _not_ get too well acquainted with Ron! Destiny only _used_ them to witness that his getting rid of Draco was legal!

Harry trudged on down the steps, fuming. It had been the same with that crowd of girls in Flourish and Blotts at the start of his second year! Destiny didn't mind if he'd been embarrassed, sick, injured, lonely – anything so long as he avoided Lockhart _by any means_. Same when he'd been close to Hermione in the bookshop – Fate only forced him to relive that minute because he'd mistakenly wanted to dash out the exit to escape the Weasleys! Only when he'd accepted his 'duty' to unmask Lucius Malfoy, had his life continued.

"Well, what if I don't WANT to co-operate!" he shouted as he slammed the door behind him.

"I beg your pardon?" said the stone gargoyle that guarded the entrance.

"OH SHUT UP!"

.

The Green-eyed Monster

In this foul mood, Harry entered the library. Hermione and Neville were in their usual place on the farthest side, heads down in eager discussion together. Clearly it didn't matter to Destiny that he was absent, wasting his time meeting some guy who happened to have met his parents: Destiny didn't need to interfere with such unimportant matters as– he slowed almost to a standstill, banging his knee against the nearest table and staring in annoyance at his two friends. Hermione was leaning over close to Neville whispering something, and he was nodding vigorously.

Harry snatched up a book from the table and held it high, pretending to read. Over the top edge he watched Neville nodding again, even more excitedly. Perhaps it was Harry's imagination but Neville's rounded cheeks seemed to wobble. He'd always been a bit overweight, Harry scoffed to himself. In contrast, even through the thin material of her school robes, anyone could see Hermione was slender but very shapely, and the lines of her throat and jaw were exquisitely etched right up to the swell of her generous teeth. She'd be fifteen in a few months and far too mature for Longbottom who was only– and anyway, what was so important about Neville that held her rapt attention! _I'M the one who saved her from Draco – not him! I'm the one who exposed Lucius Malfoy AND Quirrell AND Pettigrew AND drove off Lockhart AND millions of pixies! I'M the one who bloody well threw himself off a train and well, virtually DIED for her so–_

"–Erm... can I uuh... borrow my homework book back for a minute, please?" squeaked a tiny, anxious voice at the table against which he was leaning.

"HERE!" snapped Harry, slamming down the book in front of the little first-year girl before storming out.

.

Drowning in the Dorm

From his dormitory window, Harry stared out at the snowbound lake shimmering in the weak sunshine, and wondered what drowning felt like. He sat down on his bed, trying to shake off his depression without success, then opened his Maximoke to fumble inside for the novel he'd never finished and absolutely HATED after what Hermione had said about–

"–Ah, there you are!" came a voice from the doorway.

"What do you want, Neville?"

"Uumm... advice really, only..." Neville perched on the end of Harry's bed looking very uncomfortable.

Harry stared downwards as if more interested in the contents of his bag. "What about?"

"There's someone... I mean, I wanted to ask uumm... it's a girl thing, only I'm not sure how to tell her–"

Deep in Harry's bag, the Secrecy Sensor was in shadow, but Harry felt sure he could see it beginning to oscillate. No doubt Longbottom was trying to conceal his wicked intentions.

"What's that got to do with me?" Harry snarled.

"Well... lots of girls want to talk to you, Harry. It's easier for you. I was hoping to invite– look, don't take this the wrong way, but would you feel put out if you didn't come over this Christmas?"

"WHAT!" Harry stared at Neville. "You want to be on your own with her? Is that it?"

Neville flinched. "Well, eventually yes, but... it's about persuading her..."

"Persuading her to do what exactly?"

"Well, you know..." Neville fidgeted slightly along the bed towards Harry. "I was wondering if _you_ could speak to her for me?"

"WHAT!"

"You know her better than I do. Suppose you sounded her out? Find out if she's interested at all? I mean, she's been giving me looks – you know... erm... honestly, I'd do anything if you could help! I keep thinking about her all the time. She's driving me crazy. Or ask Susan if she knows anything. I mean, she's Hannah's best friend."

"Hannah? You're talking about Hannah Abbott, not Hermione?"

Neville's eyes threatened to pop out of his head. "Hermione? Are you mental? All she ever does is talk about you! Hermione was the one who suggested I ask you. Remember how you comforted her on the train in first year? She's never forgotten that. She says you always know exactly the right thing to say to girls."

"Hermione said that?" Harry sat up straighter. The Secrecy Sensor had stopped vibrating but his heart was thumping in his chest.

"You see, Longbottom House could formally invite the Abbotts, but I wouldn't want to annoy Hannah if she's not really interested in being my friend. But if she likes me even a bit then – so if you could stay with the Grangers over Christmas instead? Would you mind? Hermione said she'd be happy to have you – well it was her idea, really."

"She did? It was?"

"Hannah and Susan came into the library as I was about to leave, only I didn't have the nerve with all those people about to... you know."

"Right. I'll go now." Harry strode to the door.

"What! Now? This minute? Don't you want to think about what to say? Aren't you going to plan first? What if she–?" Neville jumped up and looked wildly about, gnawing through his knuckles right down to Australia. Harry wondered if the boy was going to drown himself in the lake on the way.

.

Few Words

Harry stood in the library doorway, scanning with his eyes. He soon spotted Hannah with a crowd of Hufflepuffs who had settled at the table next to the little first-year whose book he'd borrowed. He sighed and went to her first.

"Excuse me."

The little girl looked up tearfully as The Chosen One, the Slayer of Many, towered over her. Harry felt sure she was trembling.

"I wanted to apologise about earlier, only I was just upset about something. Sorry."

Her eyes widened, and her mouth fell open.

"Look, I bought you this book by H.G. Wells – it's brilliant actually; I loved it. Sort of a Christmas present." He placed it down softly in front of the child. Her jaw dropped even further in astonishment. He gave her a smile, then backed away before she heard his Maximoke humming.

"That was so considerate of you, Harry."

"Oh, hello, Hannah – didn't see you there. Mmm... hey, perhaps I could have a word now I'm here?" He dropped into the seat next to her and looked uneasily at the other Hufflepuffs beyond her.

"Hi, Harry!" chorused Susan and Leanne.

He nodded affably at them but placed a couple of Quiet Peas on the table. "Only, Neville mentioned you the other day, Hannah."

"He d–did?" Hannah quickly closed the textbook she'd been studying, almost trapping one blonde pigtail, and stared at Harry's expression as if trying to determine if he was serious.

"Spoke about you quite a few times this year actually. Thing is, should I, like, encourage him to make friends with you? Or...?"

Hannah was gaping silently at him, mouthing something unintelligible. For a terrifying moment, he wondered if she'd swallowed one of his peas. Then a little squeak came from her throat together with a nod of her head.

"That's a yes?"

Another squeak followed by a tiny cough to clear her throat. Harry considered that progress.

"Mmm... You could join us all for Christmas if you want."

Hannah's eyes twitched in astonished conflict. Her face contorted through various expressions as she struggled to speak. "_Day ... af–af...?_"

"After Christmas day?"

"_B–B...B–B..._"

"The day after Boxing day?"

Her nod was almost imperceptible but her jaw was clearly shaking.

"Okay, I'll tell him to expect you." Harry stood up and palmed his peas. "Well, nice chatting with you, Hannah."

She nodded so vigorously this time her pigtails flew about. "_S–Same..._"

.

The Squeaking Sunflower

Feeling lightheaded with success, he headed towards where Hermione had been sitting – but she'd gone. He did a quick search of side corridors on the way back to his dormitory. Neville's knuckles looked raw by the time he entered.

Harry began, "Hannah can't come till–"

–Neville groaned loudly in despair and sank down onto his bed, head in hands. "I knew it all along. I should never have–"

"–Hang on! Let me finish! She can't come UNTIL the day after Boxing Day."

Neville's face became blank as if he couldn't grasp what Harry had said, then suddenly it lit up with joy – like a sunflower blooming on a bright day. He squeaked something.

"Funny, that's exactly what _she_ said. You two should get along fine."

"W–Was sh–she – did she say if – how did she – how long can – what if–" Neville took several minutes to even partly compose himself. "You'll come too, Harry, won't you? You and Hermione?" He was panting with fear now. "Just – till – break – ice – get – know – make – impression–"

"–You've already made an impression, Neville. Look, just pretend she's Hermione. You're not nervous with Hermione – and she's a girl."

"Hermione? Yes, but she's Hermione. Anyone would be comfortable with Hermione. Like being with a sister."

Harry frowned at the comparison. He gazed out the window – and there she was, stamping her feet around the icy lake shore, yet still protected only by the thin school robes she'd worn in the heated library – she must have rushed there directly while he'd been talking with Hannah. She didn't think...? Did she think he liked Hannah or...? He sprang to his wardrobe, pulled out the big enchanted travel cloak he'd bought in Knockturn Alley, and sprinted to the door. "Later, Neville."

.

Despite Destiny

"Hey!"

"Harry? Wh–What are y–you d–doing here?" Hermione's words chattered out between her teeth in clouds of steam.

"You'll die out here, Hermione! Here, I brought you this."

He swirled the expanding blue cloak around her and she wrapped it close, shaking with cold. "Wh–What – 'bout – y–you!"

"I'm okay actually. Listen–"

"–Harry P–Potter! Don't b–be s–so s–stupid!"

She opened her robed arms like angel wings at the gates of heaven, and her flaring eyes demanded he unite with her inside paradise. He entered then – that intimate tent which must ever exclude all but two – and was instantly enfolded in an astonishing embrace and spun, spun, spun. "K–Keep m–me from f–freezing, Harry."

And they drowned together in a sea of warmth, while above the waves of splendid emotion that were crashing over her shoulders, he could now perceive the windows of Gryffindor Tower – his window – and he gasped for air. _She planned this!_

When they finally surfaced together, the couple had unconsciously wandered right around the lake – several times according to their tracks in the snow.

"It was a wonderful, wonderful thing you did for Neville," she murmured into her snuggle.

"Hermione, he's my best friend, I'd do anything for him."

"Aw... _he's_ your best friend?" she faux-pouted with her lips against his neck, "then what am I, Harry?"

"You're more than a friend to me, Hermione – I realise that now. I don't know what my future will be, but promise me you'll be in it forever."

"Of course I will, Harry, of course I will."

As the light faded, and the lights of Hogwarts sprang into life, they clung together on their slow walk back. "Say my name again, Harry, please..."

"Hermione..." he breathed, then stopped before a huge drift of virgin snow to smile. "Hermione, you're hyperventilating..."

"Again... say it again..."

"Hermione..."

Unable to resist the perfect moment, they sank together into the deep soft snow heap, enwrapped and protected by the thick warm cloak, and physically expressed their love for each other. When they returned to the castle, both knew that everything had now changed between them. The happiness of days gone by was elevated to a new height, transcending anything they had experienced or imagined when they first came to Hogwarts. They would never consider if they were not destined to be together – or if it was just some stuff that happened.

Neville sensed their tender affections of course, but asked no questions. Indeed, perhaps their ethereal behaviour had influenced him too, for on the train home the next morning he left them quite alone while he went in search of Hannah. He gathered himself for the encounter, drawing on every shred of courage he could muster to peer into every compartment no matter what until he found her.

A gaggle of girls blocked the corridor ahead. He heard whispered fragments. "_It's him..._" – "_Can't ... back now, Hannah,_" – "_...silly..._" – "_Just friends..._" They began to dissipate leaving one figure behind to grip the window frame and stare out at the snowy fields swooping by... Neville braced himself to talk sensibly, though his voice had an odd, high-pitched note when he did...

"Hannah! I was just coming to look for you."

"Oh, hello..." The girl's voice was also cracked with stress. Hannah seemed to struggle with herself for a moment then came to meet him halfway, striving to recall anything from the mental list of non-idiotic things to say that she had prepared for herself. "Ah! Ah! Aah, I was wondering about the Floo address... for next–"

"–Oh, it's _Longbottom House,_" said Neville. "I think my gran met your dad once – at the Ministry."

"Oh, yes?"

"Spoke highly of him."

"Yes, I have to... _want_ to be with Mum and Dad for Christmas day – I'm sorry."

"No, that's good! I mean, erm... good that you uuh... I'm just glad you can come later in the holiday – I'm uuh... I'm not much good at making friends so–"

"–You like Herbology, don't you?"

And so the small talk continued rather breathlessly, interrupted only by people passing by, at which point they lapsed into temporary silence but quickly resumed once alone again...

– "That's a nice part of the country." – "So, it's a new wand?" – "Hope it snows again on Christmas day."

"Want to sit down for a bit, Hannah? I passed that reserved compartment on the way."

"Can we? Nobody knows why it's there every year. It's a mystery. If you're sure."

They sat near opposite each other next to the window. Within the hour their nervousness had been replaced by a gentle excitement and a complete involvement in each other. The laughter was no longer forced. A true, lasting friendship was being forged. They couldn't know they were fated to share their lives together, nor that within the coming year, romantic love would germinate, blossom, but never wither – ever.

Springtime was glorious, and soon summer was upon them again. The four friends were by now inseparable. Harry had forgotten all about Destiny. Life at Hogwarts was perfect. Nothing could go wrong. There was not a single cloud on his horizon. At least... none that he could see.

.

—oOo—

.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

_A short chapter, but the next one will be up within a week to make up for it – probably this weekend. _

_Thanks to LtKettch for pointing out a paste error in the last chapter which is now fixed._

_Trucker wondered if Pettigrew would escape as usual – NO! I hate it when that happens in fics! Both Peter and Lucius are driven mad by the Dementors and spend the rest of their lives in Azkaban. So poor Dobby won't be freed? No, he won't, but he is treated less cruelly by Mrs Malfoy, and Draco's destiny is to be crushed to death by an avalanche while walking outside Durmstrang. _

_In reply to bodsquad, yes, the knickers do get a cameo role in a future chapter. _

_Argent Stonecutter asked: So the original Harry is basically dead? 'Dead' is the wrong word. He never existed, although fragments of his possible memories come back to the Master of Death via his Magic. _

_Abdullahsaurus said 'It seems too Mary-sue like. ... there needs to be some conflict.' Yes, I accept that there was not much serious conflict in the last chapter but it's a fun parody with most of the conflict being the emotions and imperfections in Harry's head. Think of the original Groundhog movie with 'no consequences' right? But it was fun and the only conflict was in Bill Murray's character's mind trying to resolve the whole thing. _

_Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging. Let me know of any weaknesses or faults – I'm always trying to improve my writing so feedback is really useful._ :)

**– Hippothestrowl**

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	4. Terrible Loss

.

_So far... Harry has to relive his time at Hogwarts over and over until he fulfils his destiny. He forms close friendships only with Hermione and Neville. He's caused Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle to be expelled, exposed Quirrell, Pettigrew, and Lucius Malfoy, banished Lockhart, and humiliated Snape. And destined or not, Harry and Hermione have fallen in love. Life at Hogwarts is perfect. Now read on... _

.

**Chapter 4**

**Terrible Loss**

* * *

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Dark Intruder

Fourth year began with a bang – a great many thunderclaps in fact. A ferocious storm was lashing Hogwarts castle as Harry and his friends took their seats for the opening feast on the first day. But nothing could diminish the appetites nor the happiness of the four friends on being reunited for another perfect year. Harry squeezed Hermione's hand under a napkin. Opposite them, Hannah sat beside Neville – none of the staff had objected the year before on seeing a Hufflepuff at the Gryffindor table, so why should they now?

The meal was completed; empty dishes were pushed aside; satisfied, glutted by the extravagant dinner, Harry leaned back and looked up as the Headmaster rose to his feet to make his usual announcements. But the boy and his girl only had eyes for each other. They paid little attention to notices about Forests or Filch's extended list of forbidden objects, but as the Headmaster continued, there was an extra-deafening rumble of thunder, and the doors of the Great Hall banged open.

A man stood in the doorway, leaning upon a long staff, shrouded in a black travelling cloak. Every head in the Great Hall swivelled towards the stranger, suddenly brightly illuminated by a fork of lightning that flashed across the ceiling. He lowered his hood, shook out a long mane of grizzled, dark grey hair around a badly-scarred face. But it was the man's left eye that made him frightening: it was rotating rapidly in impossible directions, even backwards, until, just for a fleeting moment, it fastened – on Harry!

Harry stiffened as the newcomer passed him, heading towards the teachers' table. The Maximoke bag against Harry's leg was fizzing and buzzing wildly, and only the noise of the storm prevented the vibrations being heard.

He slipped a couple of Quiet Peas into the bag, waited till the stranger had reached the staff benches, then cautiously turned his Foe Glass that way, fingering it into his view in the mouth of the Maximoke. He coughed his astonishment at the peculiar blackness of the figure he saw there, and took note of the name.

Hermione thumped him hard on the back. "Told you not to wolf down that treacle tart!"

Speechless for a moment, he shook his head and pointed. Hermione leaned to look – there was an incredibly-deafening rumble of thunder – the doors of the Great Hall banged open – another visitor stood in the doorway, and Harry stared. It was the same man! He closed his eyes, thinking hard. So long since his life had repeated yet...

He peeped into his bag again – saw the man was very dark indeed – studied Hermione's face – kept his mouth shut. If she sees it then we repeat, he told himself. Why? How could she be fated to remain ignorant of a dangerous enemy? Did Dumbledore himself know? Well, _someone_ had to be told!

"May I introduce our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher," said Dumbledore, "Professor Moody."

"Harry, you've gone very pale," said Hermione.

He couldn't speak. Couldn't repeat the name he'd seen in the Foe Glass. It wasn't 'Moody' at all – it was a man called Bartemius Crouch!

So Dumbledore didn't know! Or did he? What if the stranger attacked without warning!

"EXPELLIAR–!" bellowed Harry, tunnelling all of Magic down his wand but to no avail. As fast as Harry had sprang forward, the newcomer had thwarted his spell with layers of bright blue shielding. Dumbledore up instantly – wand piercing, terrifying, swinging to bear on– an overpowering thunderclap – Great Hall doors crashed wide! – Harry didn't turn. He knew who stood there – yet again.

"Harry, you've gone very pale," said Hermione. "You're sweating!"

What was Harry to do? He couldn't tell anyone, and the intruder too fast and powerful to overcome – history would repeat itself should he try anyway. Was anybody safe? Was Hermione? He focused on her concerned expression. God no! Couldn't lose her! Yet unable to fight Destiny! He resigned himself to wait it out. Fate would ... once more ... . . . have its way.

.

Challenging Destiny

Yet weeks passed by without any problem. Harry relaxed, as any young man might with a girl to love him. And it did not seem long before Halloween was upon them once more...

"Harry Potter."

The name rang around the silenced hall. Then a hum, a growing buzz of anger rose up.

"Harry Potter!" Dumbledore called again. "Harry! Up here, if you please!"

Harry stared. So this was what the new tide of destiny was all about. His name had been submitted to the Goblet of Fire.

"Go on, Harry," whispered Hermione.

"I didn't put my name in!"

"Of course not. But they have to sort it out."

For a moment he considered refusing, but somehow he felt sure his name would come out again and again until he yielded to Dumbledore's summons. He nodded, and trudged off in the direction the Headmaster was pointing.

Hermione watched him go.

Hannah looked confused. "But I thought Cedric was our Champion?"

"He is," said Hermione. "This is a mistake. A prank. Harry didn't enter."

Over the next twenty minutes the Great Hall slowly emptied – all except for Hermione. She was motionless. Eyes fixed on the far door. When it opened she quickly stood up. "Harry?"

"I have to compete. It's the rules."

"But that's preposterous! The Tournament is far too dangerous! Did you refuse?"

"Breaking the contract means I won't be allowed to perform magic anymore."

"What!"

They sat together in silence for a while.

Did they actually say you have to 'compete'? or 'participate?"

"Compete."

Her shoulders slumped.

"Did they...?" – "What if...?" – She looked very thoughtful suddenly. "Suppose you... compete _poorly?"_

Harry scratched his head. "Go on..."

"Play it safe. Do the minimum needed. Take no risks."

His face brightened. "That way, Cedric will be the only serious Hogwarts contender!"

"Uumm, yes. I was thinking more about you not getting killed actually."

"That too."

He thought furiously for a while. Finally he rose to his feet and announced. "I'm not going to try... hard."

Hermione nodded. "Good."

Harry tilted his face upward and loudly declared to the empty Hall. "I MEAN IT! I'm making the decision right now and I will not budge from it! I'm definitely not going to try hardly at all! You can't make me!"

Hermione stared up at him. "Harry... who are you talking to?"

"Hmm...? Oh, nobody... erm... look, I think it'll be alright."

"What?"

"I mean, if it were my destiny to seriously compete then it's not going to happen, so it can't be."

"Harry, you're not making any sense."

"Look, let's just enjoy this year and not worry about it. If the tasks are easy then I'll do them but I'm not taking any chances."

"Promise?"

"I swear on–" His eyes lit up and he took out his wand. – "NO, HARRY!" – "I swear on my magic that–"

"–NO, Harry!" cried Hermione, trying to wrestle his wand from him. "Even accidentally breaking a magical vow won't just mean you'll be banned from using magic – you will lose your magic completely!"

"But I'm going to phrase it so I can't break it, Hermione! Trust me."

"Oh... do be careful..." she said, yielding her grip.

He took up his position again. "I swear on my magic that I will not _knowingly and intentionally_ put myself in danger when competing in the Tournament!" There was a visible swirl of light around his clasped hands. They waited. "See? Nothing's happened!"

"Harry... what were you expecting to happen?"

"Oh, I dunno – my name come out of the Goblet again?"

"Harry, you're not making any sense."

He stared in horror. "Hermione, didn't you just say that once before?"

"Yes, just now when–"

"–Good." His shoulders relaxed.

"Harry, you're not making any–"

–He put his hand over her mouth. "Don't tempt fate, Hermione, don't tempt fate."

.

The Opening Task

"Dragons!" Harry gritted his teeth and looked up at Hermione in the stands. She gave him the thumbs up. He nodded, trying to hide his anxiety from her, yet hide himself behind a boulder at the same time. He peered round...

The Hungarian Horntail was at the other end of the enclosure, crouched low over her clutch of eggs, her wings half furled, and evil, yellow eyes upon him, a monstrous, scaly black lizard, thrashing her spiked tail, leaving yard-long gouge marks in the hard ground.

Harry certainly wasn't going to do his best, so he took out only his Squib wand and pointed it at the golden egg, carefully adjusting his grip and finger positions – then squeezed a slight lump halfway up. He lifted the wand tip, but nothing happened. The egg seemed to be stuck. As expected, probably a spell had been cast on it to block summoning, fetching, carrying, hover, or any similar charms. He sighed. There was another great boulder to his left; it wasn't much nearer the Horntail but gave him a better angle. Yet he'd sworn not to put himself in danger. He ran back twenty paces then curved around behind the other barrier without ever being in the line of dragon fire. He aimed his wand again but with the same result.

Another idea came to him. He sent a jet of water directly at the egg. The Horntail roared and Harry pulled back as a great gout of flame boiled the spray into steam. What else could he try without risk, using only the Squib wand? He worked through its limited repertoire, casting one by one: clean, dry, freeze, thaw, cook, reveal, illuminate, fetch and carry, open and–

–an ear-splitting screechy wailing, like a dozen banshees being tortured, filled the stadium. The crowd screamed and covered their ears –the dragon roared and lashed out with a mighty wing – something shiny flew threw the air – Harry dived for it and missed – he rolled behind the other boulder and sent a heavy jet of water – it struck the object, hurling it against the back wall – safe behind his rock, Harry jumped up and ran for it.

It was the golden egg – but broken – no _opened_ like some sort of container without its lid. The noise coming from it was unbearable so he took a couple of Quiet Peas out of his pocket and dropped them inside.

Blissful silence. A moment later the spectators cheered their approval – Harry had forgotten all about them. There was only one person's approval he really sought. Hermione's beaming smile stood out from the crowd. He held up the egg and waved. Harry couldn't hear her for the continuing handclaps and thunderous stamping of feet, but he could see her shaking with laughter. This was turning out to be a great year after all.

.

The Superstar

For once, the four friends stayed at Hogwarts for Christmas in order to attend the Yule Ball which had been organised. Neville finally kissed Hannah after Harry and Hermione trapped them under a sprig of mistletoe.

Hermione preoccupied herself with giving the couple some friendly advice. Harry couldn't help thinking his girlfriend was slightly tipsy. Cedric Diggory, the real Hogwarts champion, used Harry's momentary isolation from his friends to ask if he'd solved his golden egg puzzle yet.

"Uuh, yeah, did that a while back," he lied. He'd actually buried the egg under Hermione's knickers in his trunk but he could scarcely tell Diggory that. "You?"

Cedric nodded. "Yes ... anyway, I thought it was really bad luck you only got half marks because you didn't get all of your egg."

Harry grinned, not really caring. "Yeah." It struck him then that it wasn't bad luck at all. In fact, he realised suddenly, he was probably the luckiest boy in the entire school. Every year had been wonderful. He had great friends. He hardly even saw the Dursleys anymore apart from storing his travel chest at their home. And then there was Hermione... He turned to gaze at her, basking in the pleasure of being in her company and seeing her smile back at him as Hannah asked her something.

"Well, let the best man win," said Diggory.

"Uuh? Oh, yeah, good luck, Cedric." Harry instantly realised he meant it. It'd be great if Cedric won. He seemed a decent bloke and–

–Someone tapped Harry on the shoulder. He spun round a bit groggily; perhaps he'd had rather too much Butterbeer himself.

"Could I haff a vord?" It was Viktor Krum, the Durmstrang champion.

"Yeah, all right," said Harry, glancing around suspiciously.

"Vill you valk vith me?"

"Erm... okay." Harry slipped a hand inside his dress robes and rested one finger on the edge of his wand – his _real_ wand. For all he knew, Krum could be in league with Crouch – the dark wizard disguised as Professor Moody.

They edged around the dance floor and slipped out into the Entrance Hall. The front doors stood open, and the fluttering fairy lights in the rose garden winked and twinkled as they went down the front steps, where they found themselves surrounded by bushes, winding ornamental paths, and large stone statues. Harry could hear splashing water, which sounded like a fountain. Here and there, people were sitting on carved benches. He and Krum set off along one of the curving walkways.

"What're we going all this way for?" Harry said nervously.

"Don't vant to be overheard," said Krum shortly.

They stopped in the shade of the trees and Krum turned to face Harry.

"I vant to know," he said, glowering, "vot there is between you and Hermy-own-ninny."

Harry, who from Krum's secretive manner had expected something much more serious than this, stared up at Krum in amazement.

"She's my girlfriend," snapped Harry. "Why?"

But Krum kept glaring at him, and Harry was struck anew by how tall and well-built the man was.

"Not just this evening date?"

"No, for life!"

"Hermy-own-ninny vos talking 'bout you quite much," said Krum, looking angrily at Harry.

"Yeah," growled Harry, "because I'm her boyfriend."

He couldn't quite believe he was having this conversation with Viktor Krum, the famous international Quidditch player who was followed round the school by droves of girls and could take his pick, and who now appeared to be seethingly jealous of Harry.

"You haff never ... you haff not ...?"

"None of your damned business!" snarled Harry, his hand now fully gripping his wand.

Krum grunted and stalked off muttering, "Vot," he said, "is the point of being international Quidditch player if all best, most good-looking girls are taken?"

Harry stared after him in disbelief. He'd always thought Hermione was the most glorious thing that had ever happened in his life, but only now could he fully appreciate she was like a world-class superstar. Yet she loved only him!

He stumbled back to the Great Hall, but it wasn't the Butterbeer: he was drunk on wonderment, on the amazing realisation that the most gorgeous, most perfect girl in the world, cared for him alone.

The moment he entered the dance hall, their eyes met, and he knew she would have been watching out for him as eagerly as he sought her. They met where he'd left – close to the mistletoe. He didn't waste a second lining up under it, but rushed into her arms. They kissed passionately.

After several long moments – or it might have been endless summer days – they broke apart.

"What was _that_ all about?" sighed Hermione, her eyes sparkling.

"I think you're wonderful, Hermione – bonkers for loving me – but wonderful."

.

A Watery Grave

The weather was even more bitterly cold towards the end of February. On the morning of the second task, Neville woke Harry. "It's gone eight. You'd better get a move on if you want breakfast."

"Wassup?"

"Nine-thirty, remember? Down by the lake? You've only got just over an hour to prepare."

Harry dragged himself out of bed. _Prepare? The less I know the easier it will be to fail while competing poorly._

"I'll see you down in the Great Hall, Harry. Hannah's waiting for me."

_What's new?_ Thought Harry. Hannah and Hermione always waited for them – else Harry and Neville waited for them if they were down there earlier.

By twenty to nine he was in the common room. He frowned when he couldn't see his girlfriend. "Hey, Lavender! Isn't Hermione up yet?"

"Bed's empty. Already gone to breakfast, I suppose."

His frown deepened. Hermione _never_ went to breakfast without him. He sat around for ten minutes waiting. The common room was almost empty. In fact, some students were _returning_ from breakfast, and already preparing to go out to the lake.

_Perhaps she thought I'd already gone down,_ he mused. _Yeah, that must be it._ He sighed at the loss of ten minutes without her, then headed out through the portrait exit.

But there was no sign of her in the Great Hall. He grabbed a piece of toast and munched it as he walked back up the table. Neville was shrugging his shoulders. "Seamus, you seen Hermione anywhere?"

"Seamus looked at Harry as if he'd grown two heads. "She's already out there – thought you knew!"

"At the lake?"

"Yes of course. Where else would she be?"

"Potter, you'd better get yourself ready," said Professor McGonagall as she came up behind him, tapping her watch. "It's nine o'clock."

"Right. Sleepily he washed down the rest of his toast with a mug of tea, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then followed the throng out to the front door. The cold air hit him like a knife, completely clearing his head of drowsiness but giving him a headache. "Aaagh!" He rushed back upstairs to get his warm, enchanted travel cloak. He considered his wands: should he take his magical wand or the Squib wand or both? He pouted his lips in thought. What if he took neither? That way, he could seriously attempt whatever the task was but it would surely be impossible without magic? He nodded to himself and headed downstairs without them.

He'd lost track of time and the castle was almost empty. Filch sneered at him as he passed the old caretaker. He pulled his cloak tight as he went out into the cold, then hastened his pace: there was only ten minutes left to the start.

Cedric, Fleur and Krum were beside the judges' table, watching Harry sprint towards them.

"I'm ... here ..." Harry panted, skidding to a halt in the mud and accidentally splattering Fleur's robes.

"Where have you been?" said a bossy, disapproving voice. "The task's about to start!"

"Now, now, Percy!" said Ludo Bagman, who was looking intensely relieved to see Harry. "Let him catch his breath!"

Dumbledore smiled at Harry, but the heads of the other two participating schools didn't look at all pleased to see him ... it was obvious from the looks on their faces that they had thought he wasn't going to turn up.

Harry bent over, hands on his knees, gasping for breath; he had a stitch in his side that felt as though he had an ice pick between his ribs, but there was no time to get rid of it; Ludo Bagman was now moving among the champions, spacing them along the bank at intervals of ten feet. Harry was on the very end of the line, next to the muscular Krum, who was wearing swimming trunks, and holding his wand ready. Harry felt massively overdressed in his thick travel cloak.

"All right, Harry?" Bagman whispered, as he moved Harry a few feet further away from Krum. "Know what you're going to do?"

"Erm..." Harry panted, massaging his ribs.

Bagman gave his shoulder a quick squeeze, and returned to the judges' table; he pointed his wand at his throat, said "Sonorus!" and his voice boomed out across the dark water towards the stands.

"Well, all our champions are ready for the second task, which will start on my whistle. They have precisely an hour to recover what has been taken from them. On the count of three, then. One ... two ... three!"

The whistle echoed shrilly in the cold, still air; the stands erupted with cheers and applause; Harry watched in amazement as the other champions dived into the freezing water. He himself couldn't swim more than a couple of doggy paddles in a warm pond. The Dursleys had only ever seen to Dudley's lessons. How was he supposed to... _What had Bagman said? Something about 'recover what's been taken from them'?_

A panic seized him. What had they taken? He'd left his Maximoke upstairs and his wands. His invisibility cloak? Foe Glass? He frowned. Then a sudden thought struck him. _Hermione will know!_

He turned and surveyed the spectators. Some of them were laughing but he was only interested in one face...

Trouble was, he couldn't see her. Neville with Hannah was waving to him frantically but what he was signalling, Harry couldn't tell. He was pointing out over the lake. Harry looked. The other competitors had disappeared. Where were they?

A great gout of steam erupted from his gaping mouth into the icy air. They must have dived! That's it then. The task was impossible. That made it easier. He'd walk around the lake looking for an opportunity he knew couldn't be there, then nobody could say he hadn't tried his best – just that his best was useless. Certainly he was definitely not going to take any risks by stepping into the cold, numbing water – he'd promised his girlfriend and he wouldn't break that promise.

He trudged through the mud at the front of the spectator stands, feeling the crowd's derision. He thought he heard Neville shout, "_It's Hermione"_ but that made no sense. _What was?_

Abruptly it seemed a lead brick had sunk into his gut – Hermione was what had been taken from him! _She_ was _IN_ the lake!

Terror such as he'd never known! He ran splashing through the shallows screaming her name. _WAIT!_ The other champions had all headed towards the pale rising light of the sun. He sprinted awkwardly round to that side of the lake and waded in as far as he dared, digging at the surface with his hands, vainly hoping to clear a view. He could go no further, he'd promised. And he'd taken a magical oath not to _knowingly_ put himself at risk! Yet all that was cast aside in a microsecond by sheer panic. He threw off the sodden cloak and dived forward, paddling awkwardly as far as he could. It was now or never. He had only one chance in a thousand of being at the right spot. Did Destiny care? He raised his shoulders briefly, then threw his entire weight downwards and submerged.

He could see nothing. He could hear nothing. He could feel nothing but agonising cold and the searing need for oxygen. He ignored all that and kept going down. When he was almost spent his mind gave way. He imagined dim lights below and felt a singing, ringing in his ears. Vaguely he became aware of the top of a huge, crudely-hewn statue. Four people were bound tightly to it but he only truly perceived one.

She was dead, he could see that much. Utterly lifeless, cold, and without breath. Her skin was tinged green. He was too late. He died himself then. Spread his arms, let his lungs fill, and gave himself to the water. She had been his entire purpose and now he had none. His eyes closed. His last sensation was of many tiny hands grasping him, hauling him upwards... upwards...

.

A Terrible Loss

He took a huge, huge gulp of air and opened his eyes. Warmth! He was lying on his back in bed. Perhaps it had all been a dream.

"HARRY!"

"Aaah!" He could see her living face. Tears were streaming down it. He couldn't speak, but he could feel her hand in his.

"Now, now, let me see..." Matron's voice. "Drink this, I've heated it up a little. It'll help. Good... good... let him rest. You should as well, young lady. You can't go _two_ nights without sleep. He'll be fine, just let him be..."

He couldn't take his eyes off her face. The warm drink had revived his throat. "Wh–Why are you ... cr–crying, Hermione?"

She shook her head and sobbed.

"Mr Potter, you should know that–"

"–NO! NO!" cried Hermione. Abruptly she leapt up and dashed away, wailing.

"Wha...?"

"Mr Potter, you almost drowned," said Madam Pomfrey. "But for the merpeople's quick action, you would have. You were in a sorry state, though nothing we couldn't fix – nothing, that is, except for one thing..."

Harry waited.

"For some unknown reason... there's no easy way to tell you this but... your magic is badly drained; how much is not clear. I cannot tell how long it might take before..."

She patted his hand. "Get some more sleep, Mr Potter."

.

Fake Wingardium

"Are you awake, Mr Potter?"

"Mmm...?" Harry forced open his droopy eyes.

"Mr Longbottom has kindly fetched your wand," said Madam Pomfrey. "I'd like you to try to cast a couple of simple spells to see how you're progressing."

"Erm..."

Neville was widening his eyes and subtly nodding, but what was he trying to convey? Then Harry realised: Neville was holding out Harry's Squib wand. Gingerly he took it then looked inquiringly at Pomfrey.

"Nothing too strenuous at first..." She plucked the tiniest of feathers out of his pillow and held it in the palm of her hand. "See how far you can get it towards your bedside table, Mr Potter – no blowing now!"

"Right," Harry said sleepily. Carefully he adjusted his grip and finger position, pointed, then squeezed... "Wingardium Leviosa!"

The incantation was irrelevant. Using the carry charm in the enchanted stick, he slowly hovered the feather halfway, three-quarters...

"Oh, well done, Mr Potter, you almost made it! That's much better than I expected. I think you can have lunch in the Great Hall today and return to your lessons this afternoon. I'll write you a note so your teachers will not expect too much for the first few weeks."

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey."

.

Together Forever

At the threshold of the Great Hall, Harry paused, searching with his eyes. ... He found her immediately, bushy hair, head down reading a textbook next to her sandwich plate of course. He smiled.

Ignoring the growing murmurs around him, he made his way over to her. She looked up as he approached, but her smile was weak, and there was much sorrow in her eyes. "Harry..."

"Cheer up, I'm fine!" he said, taking her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.

She nodded. "We'll cover for you, Harry, but..."

Hannah and Neville nodded vigorously from across the table.

"But what?" He frowned. There was something curious about the book she'd been reading. "What _is_ that?"

"This? Oh, it's nothing..." She quickly stuffed it away in her bag.

"Hermione?"

Hannah said quietly, "It's algebra, Harry. In case she... feels the need to leave Hogwarts and attend a Muggle school."

"What!" He looked round at their faces, the stark reality of his predicament finally sinking in. Even with their support, there was no way he could fool the staff right up to NEWT level in seventh-year. He was a Squib, and Hogwarts was a school for magical children only.

"But..."

"Together, Harry," whispered Hermione. "We can do this together."

"No, Hermione!"

"I don't know what your future will be, Harry, but I promised you I'd be in it forever."

He stared at her. She'd had more time to think about this than he had.

"Bad luck, Harry!" Dean's voice carried from nearby. "There's still a chance though."

"Yeah, I can't swim neither," said Seamus, sympathetically.

Harry looked to Hermione. Then to Neville and Hannah.

Hermione's voice was hushed. "You're still in the Tournament, Harry. A binding magical contract, remember? If you refuse, you won't even be allowed to _use_ magic again, and have to be expelled!"

"What!"

"Remember when we agreed you don't need to take any risks. Promise me again that you won't."

He couldn't speak for a few moments, then... "I promise, Hermione. I can't promise on my magic because I haven't got any, but I give you my word and I won't break it this time."

She was crying. Harry winced in shame. "I'm sorry I broke my promise to you, Hermione."

Her eyes were full of tears when she looked up. "Don't be silly. I was never in real danger, but you thought I was, and that's what matters. You gave up your magic for me, Harry, and you almost gave your life."

"Yeah..." Harry wondered then about going back to the lake and throwing himself in again. Perhaps if he really died he'd break Destiny's intentions for him and...

"Harry?"

Clearly, Fate didn't care two hoots about his or Hermione's happiness but only that he fulfil his destiny – whatever that might be.

"Harry?"

"Uuh... yeah."

"We can still have a good life!" She forced a smile that didn't reach her eyes, but he'd always loved how the fullness of her teeth was revealed ever since he first met her on the Hogwarts Express.

.

Victim of the Labyrinth

"Harry, you will remember?"

It was the day of the third task. The competitors were lined up before a great hedge maze. Harry would be the last of them to enter because his score so far was the lowest by a long way.

"No matter what, Hermione, I swear it." He followed the others and began to make his way through the deep passages, wondering what lay around the next bend, then the next...

When he peeped cautiously around a corner and surprised a hungry Acromantula, he turned and fled. His Squib wand was not equipped to send up red sparks and the beast was pounding closer and closer behind him. _Think, Harry, think!_ His wand's domestic spells, he knew, could instantly cook anything from a haricot bean to a roast ox. He skidded to a halt, turned, and baked the front legs of the creature. As he ran away once more, he heard the sounds of pursuit slowing, but he himself was winded. At the next bend he cast down a Quiet Pea so the giant spider could not hear which way he turned, then continued his flight. He repeated this several times until he felt confident he had escaped the hideous monstrosity.

What now? He'd successfully made a decent showing. Yet, he must at least continue to compete – albeit poorly. If he was cast out of the Magical community for breaking the contract he might never see his friends again. And Hermione deserved to progress her magical instruction as far as possible. He drew a deep breath. She'd follow him to Muggle school, to university, to the ends of the earth if need be – but it would not be THIS day! With new resolve, he pressed on.

Every so often he hit more dead ends, but the increasing darkness made him feel sure he was getting near the heart of the maze. Then, as he strode down a long, straight path, he saw movement once again, and his wand illuminated an extraordinary creature, one which he had only seen in picture form, in his Monster Book of Monsters.

It was a sphinx. It had the body of an overlarge lion; great clawed paws, and a long yellowish tail ending in a brown tuft. Its head, however, was that of a woman. She turned her long, almond-shaped eyes upon Harry as he approached. He raised his wand, hesitating. She was not crouching as if to spring, but pacing from side to side of the path, blocking his progress.

Then she spoke, in a deep, hoarse voice. "You are very near your goal. The quickest way is past me."

"So ... so will you move, please?" said Harry, knowing what the answer was going to be.

"No," she said, continuing to pace. "Not unless you can answer my riddle. Answer on your first guess – I let you pass. Answer wrongly – I attack. Remain silent – I will let you walk away from me, unscathed."

Harry smiled. It was Hermione who was good at this sort of thing, but the obvious, safest choice was a no-brainer. He remained silent and walked away, seeking a longer route to his goal.

He never arrived. Within the next few minutes, Ludo Bagman's voice echoed across the maze. "The Task is completed. Will contestants please cast up green sparks so that we may help you out more speedily."

Harry frowned. Wasn't he supposed to win? Wasn't that his destiny? Yet nothing restarted. He hadn't found himself back at the beginning of the maze to try and try again until he succeeded. What did that mean? Who then had won? Was it _their_ fate and not his? And if destiny had been fulfilled, did that mean he could now uncover the dark wizard masquerading as Professor Moody?

At any rate, he could not cast any sparks with the Squib wand so began trudging back the way he'd come. After some time he came across his Quiet Peas so he knew he was on the right track, and they reminded him he had Houdini's Compass in his pocket which always pointed to the nearest escape. Even so, almost twenty minutes had elapsed before he finally emerged from the confusing labyrinth.

There was no rapturous applause. No roar from the crowd nor celebratory band playing. All was quiet and sombre.

"Am I the last?" he asked the nearest figure.

"Harry, have you seen Cedric?" Dumbledore grasped his arm. "Have you?"

"No sir, I saw no one. ... But, sir..."

"Continue the search!" cried the Headmaster, sweeping off, a worried look on his face.

"Sir!"

But as Dumbledore hurried away, Harry saw Professor Moody heading his way. There was no cover to stop Harry being cursed in the back as he ran, nor could he possibly fight the powerful dark wizard with a Squib wand... could he? There was one spell he'd never tried, not understanding what it was for. He struggled to even remember how it was produced. But now he gripped the enchanted stick in the configuration as best he could recall and... twisted.

Screams! – A stranger had been revealed where Moody had stopped to better aim his wand at Harry – he tripped over the wooden leg strapped to his knee, staggered, swivelled his wand – Dumbledore had already turned! – the dark wizard fell, stunned, his magic eyeball spinning sightlessly on the ground.

.

—oOo—

.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

_Abdullahsaurus mentioned that Harry and Hermione making love at 13 [Hermione is 14] is a bit weird. That's a point of view and I understand it. But sex is not uncommon amongst the young, and in a mixed boarding school like Hogwarts, much takes place unspoken in store cupboards and the like. Consider also that my parody is accelerating the entirety of the Hogwarts years – and including every happiness that Harry lacked in the original story. Compare also Shakespeare's Juliet who was 13 in the play, while her mother, Lady Capulet, had already borne her first child by that age. In many cultures and time periods, women did, and still do, marry and bear children at an early age. _

_Meanwhile, starburst98 and CCBottle wanted more detail about what happened with Harry and Hermione inside the snowdrift. Oh, all right then, I admit it, they went all the way: Hermione removed her socks and Harry kissed her bare feet. There, satisfied? _

_Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging. Let me know of any weaknesses or faults – I'm always trying to improve my writing so feedback is really useful._ :)

**– Hippothestrowl**

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	5. Fate Accomplished

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_So far... Harry has to relive his time at Hogwarts over and over until he fulfils his destiny. He forms close friendships only with Hermione and Neville. He's caused Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle to be expelled, exposed Quirrell, Pettigrew, and Lucius Malfoy, banished Lockhart, and humiliated Snape. And destined or not, Harry and Hermione fell in love. Having found true happiness in his heart instead of in his Magic, Harry's life at Hogwarts is still marvellous even though he became a Squib during the Triwizard Tournament. Now read on... _

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**Chapter 5**

**Fate Accomplished**

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Never Growing Up

The summer of 1995 was wonderful despite the difficulties of the previous year's Triwizard Tournament. With all that behind them, and Harry's loss of magic not essential to their recreation, the four friends enjoyed their holiday with as much zest as ever. They even looked forward to returning to Hogwarts in the autumn because of all the wonder and magic and flow of days. They would live its excitement together without care or fear.

"We've worked it all out beautifully, Harry," smiled Hermione as the four sat in the Grangers' parlour refreshing themselves with mouth-melting biscuits and cool, cool juice. "Neville, Hannah, and I have made good progress on our nonverbal magic to help you better in classes. You don't need to excel. All you need is–"

"–is to happily remain in Hogwarts for all seven years!" cried Harry. "My grades won't matter since I no longer practice magic." He grinned at the others. "And anyway," he added loftily with a wave of his arm, "I thought I might live a life of leisure when we leave, and not work at all. You can be Minister for Magic, Hermione, and still cook dinner and wash the dishes when you get home from work each night."

She threw a cushion at him, then her face turned a little more serious. She sighed. "I wonder what fate does have in store for us, though," she mused. "We've shared such happiness together so far. Sometimes I wish... I wish we could just stay at Hogwarts forever!"

"Forever!" cried Harry, raising his goblet of pumpkin's essence. "I'll drink deep to that!"

"Forever!" echoed his friends in unison.

But there was one cloud darkening the horizon...

"Tell me again about what Dumbledore said, Harry." Neville shifted in his comfy chair with Hannah on the arm lounging around him, stretched half across one shoulder.

"Well, I told you he interrogated Crouch. The real Moody was locked in a chest in his room. You see, the Triwizard Cup was intended to Portkey me to Voldemort to help in his resurrection, but Cedric was used instead."

"So You-know-who's definitely back?"

"Yes, that's what Dumbledore believes after they found Cedric's body. But without any witness to the ritual, the Headmaster is keeping quiet about the whole thing and biding his time to see what Voldemort does next. He's worried, you can tell."

"Not our problem, Harry," said Hermione crossly. "I'm not even fifteen yet for goodness sake! I want to enjoy my youth as long as I possibly can!"

Harry grinned slyly. "I hope I'm the youth you're talking about enjoying!"

"Oh, you know what I mean. Muggle adults say these are the happiest days of your life. I don't think I ever want to grow up."

Harry smiled. "I'll be your Peter Pan if you'll be my Wendy." He nodded slowly as he considered different possibilities. "I could get fairy dust and a ton of other stuff. Who needs their own magic anyway with so many enchanted objects? Yeah, maybe another trip down Knockturn Alley is–"

"–Not on your own you won't!" cried Hermione. "I'm coming with you this time."

Harry stared. "Who are you and where's my Wendy?"

.

A Question of Destiny

Fifth year flowed over and around them as though they were celebrating one perfect central moment. Apart from occasional pain in his scar and a few nightmares he struggled to forget, Harry's life was blissful. He excelled at Potions –much to Snape's annoyance – but was bottom of his class in Transfiguration, Charms, and Defence. None of that mattered to him. The real Moody was teaching now, and if he was suspicious of Harry's lack of ability, well, he kept as quiet as a pea about it. After all, it was Harry's revealing spell that had saved Moody's life by exposing Crouch.

Harry gained an Outstanding in his Potions and History O.W.L.s but trolled in every other subject. Even Hermione could not help him cheat the well-scrutinised exams. Using fairy dust, Peter and Wendy flew up to the Astronomy tower at the end of the year and surveyed the domain of their joint contentment.

"This is where life really began for me, Hermione," murmured Harry as they gazed out together over the castle grounds. "I didn't really know true happiness until I met you."

"I feel the same. It's like an ideal level where we have so much more freedom than the very young, but not yet the burden of adult responsibilities. I think we were destined for each other, don't you?"

Harry stared at Hermione's dreamy expression. Every day had been so perfect, he'd given no thought to Destiny all year. What had it in store for him? Was Hermione included? His face clouded.

"What is it, Harry?"

He stared down over the edge of the parapet at the ground far below.

"Harry! What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing. I'm fine." But he was glad he hadn't brought the contents of his Maximoke along with him, especially his Secrecy Sensor.

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Bad Dream Forgotten

In June, Harry had his most vivid nightmare so far. He woke up shouting and sweating. It had made no sense. A man was being tortured but it was not clear why. He seemed familiar and reminded him somewhat of the stranger he'd met in Dumbledore's office a couple of Christmases ago. _What was his name...?"_

"What's wrong, Harry?" said Neville, blinking his eyes open.

"Nothing. Bad dream is all."

"Go back to sleep for Merlin's sake!" growled Ron, turning over irritably. He'd been out of sorts all year. There had been a story going round that his father had died but Harry had been reluctant to ask; he knew he'd be hopeless at consoling anyone, and although he got along with Ron, they were not close friends.

The final morning arrived. For a few moments on the station platform at Hogsmeade, Harry reflected back on the preceding year and smiled broadly. Within so many perfect, golden days, one or two headaches and dreams seemed unimportant as he boarded the train with his friends. Harry's sixteenth birthday was imminent, and Hermione would become of age a couple of months after. Ideas of an early marriage had already entered his head, but the joy that was welling up within him, convinced the boy they were already bound together forever. Nothing could change that. Nothing. ... Nothing?

"Harry?"

He smiled. "I love you, Hermione Granger."

"I love you too, Harry."

.

Without Hope

Sixth year commenced as glorious as the fifth. Hermione, Neville, and Hannah were prefects now; only Harry's dismal performance in class kept him from becoming one too, but he cared so little about it that he could not care less. He had an even greater stock of enchanted objects from Knockturn Alley, but there was only so much could be done to obscure his complete absence of magical power. His most-prized purchases were tiny clasps of Halcyon that, like that fabled bird, only briefly flittered into view within the cupped hand of their wearer.

Most of the students seemed to be getting younger and younger, shorter and shorter, with their voices squeakier and squeakier. Dumbledore, however, was showing his age. There was a definite weariness in his gait that robes could not hide. Moody too had gone back into retirement and the Ministry had, yet again, to assign an Auror to teach Defence classes.

As the year progressed though, Harry gained a definite sense that something bad was coming. In the Daily Prophet were reports of Death Eater attacks on Muggles. Some were saying Voldemort had returned – though the Fudge-led Ministry attempted to quash the rumour.

By Easter, the Headmaster was looking decidedly sick. After the holiday, he called Harry up to his office. The evening was late; darkness was enveloping the castle like a gloomy shroud. Harry ascended through the shadows on the spiral stair, tapped on the Headmaster's door, and entered.

A hooded figure stood by the Headmaster's Floo. "Goodbye, Albus," the man said as he stepped into the green flames.

"Thank you, Saul, old friend – ah, Harry, come in, come in, dear boy. Take a seat."

Harry did so, wondering who–

"–That was Professor Croaker," said Dumbledore, as if he had read Harry's mind. "He's an Unspeakable."

"A what?"

"From the Department of Mysteries, he's been in touch with me over recent months."

Harry waited, but he was not rewarded with any details of the contact. Instead, Dumbledore sagged, then wearily took his place behind the desk.

"How's your magic these days, Harry? Any progress?"

"I... not really. It's as weak as ever." He took out his Squib wand without thinking, expecting Dumbledore to ask him to perform a spell he might judge.

"I see." Dumbledore was leaning forward to examine the enchanted stick with great interest.

A frightening conviction entered Harry's head that he was about to be expelled. "I can do the basics of course," he added hastily, serving out a quick recipe that almost set fire to the old man's beard. "Sorry." He quenched it with a little water – rather too much actually. "Sorry."

"Quite alright." Dumbledore rose and went to the window. He did not open it. Harry had the distinct feeling the Headmaster was hiding something momentous that was about to burst out of him like a giant maggot. Harry regretted not bringing his Secrecy Sensor.

"You recall the cursed diary you uncovered just before your second year?"

For several seconds, Harry had no idea what Dumbledore was talking about. Many years had passed since then, and he only recalled important things like Hermione saving him some toast in Herbology, and Hermione cradling his cheek in one hand while gently combing grass cuttings out of his hair, and Hermione–

"–Mr Malfoy in Flourish and Blotts?" prompted the Headmaster, turning back from gazing out into the night.

"Ah, yes... right."

"Did you ever wonder, Harry, with what it was cursed?" Dumbledore was coming closer.

Harry shook his head. "I never thought about it, sir."

"Not even once?" Dumbledore raised an eyebrow but it was lost in the tangle of his white hair.

"Never."

"Forgive me, but may I look at your scar, Harry?"

Harry blinked. "My...?" What was this all about? Diaries and curses and scars? He pulled aside his tousled fringe.

"Ah yes, most intriguing..." Dumbledore's breath smelt of lemon. He resumed his seat behind the desk before continuing.

"Last year, Ron's father died in my service, did you know?" Dumbledore's eyes closed in pain. "A terrible burden, terrible..."

Harry stared, unable to answer.

"Back to what we were talking about – the diary – Arthur Weasley did his duty and handed it in to the Aurors investigating Lucius Malfoy's actions that day. The book subsequently was received into the Department of Mysteries – which brings us full-circle back to my visitor who just left.

"Professor Croaker?"

"Exactly."

"Over the last few years his department uncovered several objects similarly cursed – I only heard about this a few months ago at–"

"–that was when..." Harry could not say outwardly that was the time when Dumbledore first began to look very old.

"Harry, my magic is diminishing in much the same way yours has."

"What! But–"

"–I believe it began as long ago as when I misplaced my old knobbly wand in the summer of 1991."

"I didn't know you'd–" Harry couldn't at first remember Dumbledore ever losing his wand, but a hazy recollection touched the corner of his mind.

"These dark objects are what have been keeping Voldemort alive," Dumbledore said flatly. "The Unspeakables have destroyed five of them. I must ask you, Harry, _not_ to repeat any of this to others."

"Of course, sir."

"I believe there remain two more of these dreadful – they are called Horcruxes. One of them is a giant snake that Voldemort keeps with him at all times."

"A snake?"

"The same snake that killed Mr Weasley."

Harry gasped.

"Arthur was helping to guard an important secret in the Department of Mysteries, a secret that concerns _yourself_."

Harry was becoming dizzy trying to connect all these statements, and that Mr Weasley, who he hardly knew, had died trying to protect something that concerned himself. "Me, sir?"

Dumbledore hesitated, his expression an agony of doubt. "Forgive me Harry, but I must burden you with grievous, terrible news. Please brace yourself."

Harry gaped in horror. For the next few minutes, Dumbledore described a prophecy recorded at the Ministry that claimed either Harry or Voldemort must die at the hand of the other.

"But I have no... that is, my magic is depleted. I cannot defeat him. I will die if I face Voldemort!"

Dumbledore remained silent, watching Harry's face.

Harry slowly digested the dreadful import of what he was hearing. Then an awful sinking sensation within his stomach reduced him to an utter sense of futility. There was no escape. "This is it then, isn't it? This is what my destiny has been all along, isn't it? Whatever I do, I must eventually meet with Voldemort and be killed? There's no way out."

"Harry, if I could perform this duty for you, I would without hesitation."

"What if I find a safe place to hide? I could go abroad, change my name and–"

"–Harry, you are forgetting one other thing."

"What is that?"

"The two Horcruxes that are preventing Voldemort's death."

"The Horcruxes? The giant snake you told me about for one. The one that's with Voldemort? Someone must kill it!"

"Yes, but there is one other."

"Is that with him too?"

"The final Horcrux is in this office right now."

Harry's eyes bulged. "So why don't we–"

"–Can you not think what it might be?"

Harry shook his head, bewildered. "Is it a book like the diary?"

"Like the snake, it is a living, sentient being, Harry."

Harry frowned – then his expression crashed in realisation, but he needed confirmation. "Th–that's not ... the reason you're ... dying, is it?"

"No, Harry."

Harry's hand instinctively reached up towards his scar, then fell back defeated. "It's me isn't it? The reason I'm destined to be killed by Voldemort is because I'm a Horcrux. Nobody can kill him until I'm dead."

"You and the snake."

Long moments passed while Harry's face showed the tormented struggle within. "Per–perhaps... I m–might get a shot at the snake before I... die."

"Perhaps. But Voldemort will come in force."

Harry fingered his wand, wondering if he could fry the beast with his rapid cooking charm. "When? Where?"

"My sources tell me that Voldemort is gathering his supporters. He knows of my condition. He will wait until I am a little weaker, then he will strike."

Harry jerked upright. "He can't attack the castle surely?"

"That is his plan."

"Is there any hope I might kill him at the same time he kills me, sir?"

Dumbledore's expression contorted into anguish. He appeared to have difficulty breathing. Some moments passed before he could softly utter, "_None whatsoever, Harry._" And, it might have been Harry's imagination, but he thought the old man also murmured, "_not without magic..._"

.

The Master of Destiny

Harry left the Headmaster crumpled and broken at his desk, tears trickling down his heavily wrinkled face. Harry himself was no better. He could not face Hermione right away – she'd know immediately that something was very wrong. He headed up to one of their favourite spots atop the Astronomy Tower. He hugged his robes close against the cool evening air, and gazed out into the darkness. The lights of Hogsmeade were visible from here, but far to his right, the sombre blackness of the Forest was a total void in the night. He visualised scores of Death Eaters streaming over the landscape with Voldemort leading the way. He felt only numbness now that he was accepting his fate, but on the actual day, could he stride out alone to face his adversary? Would his nerve hold?

And after he was dead, and Voldemort closer to being mortal? Surely Dumbledore, forewarned as he was, would direct from the parapets an onslaught against the snake. He took out his true wand, wishing he had his magic and could have remained alive to fight alongside his friends! Yes, Dumbledore would have amassed an army which, protected by the wards and stones of Hogwarts castle, would unleash their fury – while taking minimal casualties themselves?

"_Two or three perhaps..._" Shadows of memories ... hanging in the still air.

Harry raised the wand defensively, whirling about. "Who's there!"

"_So many saved..._"

"Who are you?" gasped the young man. "_What_ are you?"

"_Magic has a multitude of voices, Harry..._"

"You're Magic, aren't you! Destiny itself!"

"_Shall the Master of Death, empowered with limitless possibilities, willingly accept less than perfection?"_

"What right have you to decide my fate! I've been happy here for–"

"–_Not us. ... You chose your own destiny..._" And the voices became Hermione's... "_...the future isn't fixed. Life is what you make it._" Then, from somewhere in time, Harry's own words were thrown back at him by the wind... "_If there be any way that Magic can bring them all back, then so be it!"_

Harry staggered. "I did it to myself? I chose my own destiny?"

"_The Master of Death is one with Magic, and Magic IS Destiny. Harry Potter was never fated to befriend and lose Hermione Granger. A compartment was reserved for you on the Hogwarts Express where you might have remained alone to dwell on–_"

"Suppose I don't WANT to be alone?" Harry shouted.

But there was no answer. A banner fluttered softly as with the passing of something unseen; an owl hooted distantly...

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Love's Union

Harry forced himself to present a carefree attitude. He hid his demons well. Hermione was not completely fooled of course, but she never came close to recognising the scale of his increasing dread. At Longbottom House, one second after midnight in the midst of their usual double-birthday celebrations, at the very moment that Harry came of age, he and Hermione were wed.

The marriage had to remain secret amongst the four friends of course. The invisible Halcyon clasps that Harry had purchased in Knockturn Alley placed themselves around their fingers, binding the devoted lovers forever.

As they lay in each others arms that night, Harry murmured softly to himself, "_not even Destiny can take this away from us..._"

"_What was that, Harry?"_ his wife breathed drowsily.

"Hush, go back to sleep, Hermione..."

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Finding a Way

But it seemed that Harry was sorely mistaken. Halloween brought heavy rain and fearsome winds that carried screams all the way from Hogsmeade. The staff were alerted. Well-prepared Aurors were pouring into Hogwarts through the several Floo accesses. Seventh-year students were ready and willing to play their part, while the younger children were ushered down into the dungeons for protection.

Harry placed all his remaining Quiet Peas beside Hermione's pillow and left her fast asleep. "_Goodbye, my darling Hermione..._" he silently whispered as he departed to finally face his nemesis.

The ascension up to the very top of the Astronomy Tower seemed to take a lifetime. His legs felt weighed down by boots of stone. Within him was nothing but emptiness. He'd left Hermione a note, but it had proved impossible to truly convey his feelings for her in mere words.

The gale hit him like an ice wall, knocking all the breath out of his lungs. The young man forced himself to the parapet and looked down. Far below was the vision he had feared for so many months. Death Eaters – not scores, but hundreds of them! Yet whoever was leading the mob, it was not Lord Voldemort. Harry's eyes searched further back through the marching horde until... deep within the central throng, he glimpsed a sinuous form slithering beside a black-hooded figure. That was enough for Harry, and he was well prepared for this moment. He drew out a fistful of fairy dust. Held his arm up high. Climbed onto the parapet, sheer terror clutching at his heart. As he braced himself, Destiny could be heard above the howling winds, but it was only Hermione's voice he heard...

"_...the future isn't fixed, Harry..._"

In a shocking moment of heightened awareness he saw clearly what he would do. He cast the fairy dust – allowed it to be snatched away by the storm – he dived without it.

"HARRY, NO!" screamed Hermione from behind him – he twisted in mid-air to see her one last time – the ground below hit him like an express train – every bone seemed broken in that instant. The pain was–

"–packed with Muggles, of course."

Harry Potter staggered back in shock. His legs collided with the bench at King's Cross Station and he sat down heavily. "YES!" he screamed, pumping his fist.

"Are you alright, dear?"

"–packed with Muggles, of course."

He ran forward and kissed Mrs Weasley on the lips. Her astonishment was–

"–packed with Muggles, of course."

Harry laughed the laugh of the reckless. He barged past the Weasley family and straight through the wall between platforms nine and ten.

_KER-ASH!_

"Watch where you're going you lout! That's my cart you hit." It was Malfoy.

"Then don't stand in front of the wall, BOZO!" jeered Harry and pushed past to claim his seat on the Hogwarts Express.

He rushed by the reserved compartment, slowed at the next, then cautiously peered in. _Keep everything the same!_ He crept softly inside, quietly slid the door shut behind him, hoisted Hedwig's cage and his trunk up onto the rack, then sat down in a sort of neutral-not-affecting-anything kind of position in the middle of the opposite row, and nervously tried to avoid eye contact.

"Hello, I'm Hermione Granger. Who are you?"

"Harry Potter."

"Are you really?" said Hermione breathlessly. "I know all about you, of course – I got a few extra books for background reading. I knew nothing about any of this until I got my letter – My parents are non-magical, you see – your owl looks nice – I wish I could have– what are your favourite subjects? – Do you know what house you want to be in? I hope I'm in Gryffindor, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad – it's so exciting isn't it!"

He stared at her face. There was an odd note to the way she'd spoken, like someone who'd rehearsed beforehand. "What's that book you're reading?" he said quietly.

"This? It's _Hogwarts: A History._ I've–"

"–Oh yes? May I look?"

Harry went across to lean over, but it wasn't the text he was examining; it was Hermione's open hand as she tilted the book towards him. On her ring finger something fluttered briefly, something that might have been a Halcyon clasp.

"Hermione?" he gasped. "Is that you?"

"HARRY!" she squealed. "I was too afraid to believe! I didn't – don't know what's happened – do you? I found myself at King's Cross station and–"

"–You jumped too? From the Astronomy Tower? Hermione, you might have died!" he scolded.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I didn't know what your future would be, but I'd promised you I'd be in it forever..."

Tears flowed then and she plunged her face into her hands.

Harry was quick to sit down and put an arm round her shoulder. "Please don't cry, Hermione. I'm here now..."

"How is this possible, Harry? Why are we reliving this? Is it because we've been so happy at Hogwarts we're drawn back?"

"Hermione, you saw Voldemort's Death Eaters attacking the castle as–"

"–Professor Dumbledore would fight them off!"

Harry took a deep breath. "There's a prophecy, Hermione. I have to let Voldemort kill me."

"NNNNOOOOOOOO!"

She flung her arms about him. He realised then how small she was, yet just as loving. Tentatively he rubbed her back. She did not object this time around.

"You've not seen a toad anywhere, have– oh, sorry!"

Harry and Hermione pulled apart from their embrace and burst out laughing. Hermione wiped her eyes – partly to obscure her blushes.

"Sorry, Neville," said Harry, rising to his feet with Hermione following, "we'll help you–"

"–You know me?"

"Of course, _everyone_ knows the Longbottoms! The best of families!" smiled Harry. "By the way, do you know the Abbotts?– another very respected lineage." Harry looked thoughtfully at the ceiling for a few moments then winked at Hermione. "I'm not sure but I believe one of the Abbotts is starting Hogwarts this year. In the interests of friendship and inter-family unity, perhaps we should introduce you."

"Harry..." Hermione still had questions.

"But first," continued Harry, "Uuh... Hermione I think we need to keep things much the same. You help Neville, I'll deal with _Malfoy._" He mouthed the last word with his face averted from Neville's scrutiny.

As Hermione was going out the door with Neville, she gasped and turned back. "Harry, what about your magic?"

He blinked. Frowned. Took out his wand. It was all knobbly. He swished out a few harmless sparks with ease, then a spray of water that rainbowed briefly in the light charm that followed. He nodded happily. "Good to be back."

Hermione's eyes lit up and her mouth widened into a huge smile. He'd always loved how generous that smile was. He watched her dance out with a bemused Neville, then sat down again to think...

His coming years at Hogwarts looked even more inviting now he knew exactly what was ahead and which experiences were critical to his destiny. There were hundred of ways of dealing with the Malfoys, Quirrell, Lockhart, Pettigrew, and Crouch – each one more deliciously enjoyable than the one before! He might compel the Cornish Pixies to attack Lockhart this time, pull off his wig, strip him down to his– the girls crowding him in Flourish and Blotts did not seem terrifying at all now, just the opposite in fact. He'd been too young before; now he could repeat that as often as he wished. And there was no need to lose his magic in the lake! Scabbers should be Dreadlocked much earlier, and that godfather guy could be warned that he was going to be tortured by Voldemort maybe? What was his name...?

And he'd buy thousands of cursed objects in Knockturn Alley and bury them before Voldemort's advancing rabble – he knew the exact date and time they would arrive. They, the snake, and Voldemort would all wither and burn in seconds. Most of all, he'd find a way to remove Voldemort's soul from his scar without truly dying. He could relive his Hogwarts years a thousand times to find that way and never tire. Those years had been the happiest imaginable, but now he and Hermione were lovers from the start – what joys awaited them!

He was Master of Death! He'd finally defeated Destiny and made his own! It was going to be wonderful to relive Hogwarts again and again – perfect in fact!

"They're saying Harry Potter's on the train. Is that you?" sneered a voice from the open doorway.

_Here – we – go...!_ grinned Harry, mentally rolling up his sleeves.

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The End

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* * *

**Author's Notes**

_Kudos to TheGreatBubbaJ who anticipated the possibility of a complete restart; it's not called 'Perfecting the Hogwarts Years' for nothing. But was it always 'intended' by Destiny that Harry jump off the tower? I did consider an end scene where 'Destiny' is chuckling to itself (or with other mythical beings such as Death) that Harry thinks he's thwarted his fate, but I could not think how to make it work well. Anyway, it's nice to leave it ambiguous. _

_Meanwhile, I'm still working on 'Chance of a Lifetime' and have already written three scenes comprising 5000 words of the next chapter. But 'Chance' is much more complex and difficult to write than 'Groundhogwarts' (which poured out very quickly and was fun.) It's hard work writing a complicated epic. Who's in Devil's Deep and who's not? Who's in Crest? Who's in Cathesis? Who's dead and who's alive? How dark should Hermione be in order to save the world from nuclear annihilation? How bitter would she be after suffering 140 years of mankind's evil? If I had to answer Mastermind questions on my own story then I'd probably not get every answer correct! I have to research so much as I go along. OK, I'm waffling now. Let's put this fic to bed... _

_Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging. Let me know of any weaknesses or faults – I'm always trying to improve my writing so feedback is really useful._ :)

**– Hippothestrowl**

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